Do I Know You?
by tutncleo
Summary: Gibbs begins to suspect that he does not really know the true Tony Dinozzo. This story is now complete! Be aware that the last chapter contains graphic sexual material. If that disturbs you please don't read, just know the boys have a happy ever after!
1. Chapter 1

_Okay here goes - my first fanfic ever. Be kind. Didn't realize how nerve-wracking this was going to be._

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**DO I KNOW YOU - Chapter One**

It was 7:15 a.m. at NCIS head quarters and as the elevator doors opened an exuberant, tall brunette sauntered out, laden with bags from the local bakery. "Happy Monday boys and girls!" said the obnoxiously upbeat, handsome young man. Groans could be heard all around the bullpen. Whereas other people usually hated the start of the work week, Tony Dinozzo lived for it. Tony deposited one of the bags filled with bagels and donuts in the break room next to the ever present pot of coffee. Seeing that Tony came bearing food other agents slowly began to congregate and lazy discussions about how people spent their weekends – barbecues, lawn work, visiting friends and family – filled the room. When asked what he had done that weekend, Tony grinned lasciviously and said that he never kissed and told. Tony's answer was met with eye rolling and laughter and the other agents drifted back to their discussions about their weekend. No one took any particular notice when Tony slid out of the room carrying the other two bags and headed to the elevator.

Tony's next stop was the still empty morgue, where he dropped off a bag of baked goods leaving a note on a pad of paper wishing both Ducky and Jimmy a merry morning and a sweet beginning for a new week. Tony then headed to Abby's lab carrying his last bag of goodies with him.

When Tony got to the forensic scientist's lab he paused a minute outside of the door to take in the reverberations caused by the music coursing through the lab. "Toooooony!" Abby shrieked, drowning out the ear splitting music as he headed through the door. "What's in the bag? Did you bring me something? Where's my caf-pow?"

Laughing as he untangled himself from the bear hug Abby now had him in, Tony said, "Just some sweets for my sweet and no caf-pows Abby. _You_ most definitely should never mix caffeine and sugar. Besides, Gibbs is sure to bring you one when he comes down to say good morning, and with any good luck, I'll escape the results of you mixing your two favorite drugs." Slapping Tony playfully on the shoulder and putting on a pretend pout Abby accused Tony of not loving her. "Everyone loves you Abby; how could they not", Tony assured her.

"Aww" said Abby, "So how was your weekend? " Abby did not wait for an answer and continued right on. "I know mine was terrific. I went to that new club that opened in DuPont Circle on Friday night. It was totally awesome," Again, never letting Tony respond, Abby continued on, "I wish you had been able to go with me Tony. We haven't done anything together in the longest time! You should slow down on your love life and make time for your friends. I spent Saturday afternoon recovering and bowled with the girls that night. Sunday Timmy and I finally got to work on that Habitat project the local YMCA is sponsoring and Sunday night my friend and I finished painting my bedroom. Do you know how hard it is to match colors? We finally had to drag the coffin to the hardware store so that the man in the paint department could mix a red that matched the lining. "

When Abby stopped for breath Tony finally got a chance to say something. Avoiding completely any comment about Abby's interior design and any comments that would renew Abby's curiosity about Tony's weekend, he quickly exclaimed, "Don't tell me you let McClumsy handle power tools, Abby! Does he still have ten fingers?"

Before Abby could defend McGee they were both interrupted by a growled"Don't you have work to do Dinozzo?"

"On it Boss" said Tony, waving at Abby as he hurried out of the lab and grinning to himself as he watched Gibbs hand over a 32 ounce cup of caf-pow to Abby and patiently endure the kiss Abby placed on his cheek. As he got into the elevator Tony found himself subconsciously rubbing his hand across his own lips. "Get a grip you idiot" he thought to himself, and giving himself a disgusted shake, he checked his reflection visible on the metal walls of the elevator and straightened his tie and his back at the same time.

Up in the bullpen McGee and Ziva had arrived and were slowly sorting through their emails, trying to get back into the weekly routine and casually discussing what they had done over the past couple of days. McGee was telling Ziva about meeting up friends and going to lecture on new advances in data retrieval software.

"Only you would think that was a great way to spend a day McGeek" said Tony as he slid into his chair with a satisfied sigh, balled up a piece of paper and launched it at Tim's head. "And a happy Monday to you my sexy ninja chick." he said to Ziva, as he powered up his computer and reached for the newest folders on his desk.

"At least I am capable of remembering my whole weekend Tony. I'm sure you either spent yours hanging around drinking with a bunch of other over-aged frat boys, making fools of yourselves or wining and dining your latest flavor of the week" huffed McGee.

Neither Ziva nor McGee noticed the slight tightening around Tony's mouth before he blithfully replied, "That is for me to know and you to wonder about McStuffy " and before more could be said he quickly asked Ziva if she had a good weekend.

Ziva had just begun to talk about the gun show she had attended when Gibbs appeared, slammed his coffee cup down on his desk and ordered all three of his agents to stop wasting time and get to work. Hiding his smile as they all jumped and quickly went back to catching up on their email, Gibbs glanced over at his senior agent. Although dressed to the nines, with his hair carefully styled, Gibbs detected faint dark circles under Tony's eyes and a tightness around his shoulders. "Just like Dinozzo to spend the weekend out prowling rather than resting" Gibbs thought to himself and was surprised to find himself irritated at the thought of Tony wearing himself out with, as McGee had said called it, his latest 'flavor of the week'. Gruffly he said, "Dinozzo, since we don't have a new case yet I want that supplies order I told you about Friday on my desk by noon and an update on the status of all the unsolved cases for the last twelve months by end of day. " He noticed Ziva and McGee redoubled their efforts to appear engrossed in their correspondences, least he feel the need to dole out more work their way. He was surprised by the fact that rather than grossing Tony merely smiled at him sweetly and said, "No problemo bossman." Out of the corner of his eye Gibbs saw Dr. Mallard, the ME, standing at the edge of the bullpen. Ducky was frowning and catching Gibbs eye, he nodded towards the elevator, indicating that Gibbs should follow him.

"I'm going for more coffee. Call me if we get a case. When you get done with your email McGee, Abby needs your help in the lab. Ziva, since you spent your weekend checking out guns I want you to go to the firing range and test fire the new guns we got in last week. Make sure they're all in working order." And with that he tossed his empty coffee cup and followed Ducky into the crowded elevator. With Gibbs gone both Ziva and McGee turned to smirk at Tony, knowing that their assignments would be fun while Tony would be stuck at his desk pouring over paperwork. To their surprise Tony was already printing out a hard copy of the completed supplies list and had the cold case files from the last few months neatly stacked on his desk. Not even noticing them Tony reached for the top file and called up a document on his computer which already seemed to be several pages long. McGee and Ziva exchanged bemused glances and hurried off to their respective assignments, eager not to be in the bullpen upon Gibbs return.

Upon entering the morgue, Ducky looked around to see if Jimmy Palmer, his assistant was around. Seeing no one but Gibbs, who had followed him down, Ducky began to speak. "Jethro is there a particular reason you are being so harsh to that young man, or are you just reinforcing what the second "B" stands for? If I returned from my first free weekend in six weeks to be greeted that way by my supervisor, a supervisor for whom I have an unconditional urge to please I might add, I would begin to wonder about my welcome."

"What do you mean his first free weekend in six weeks? None of the team has been on weekend call for last month, Ducky! "

"Jethro, are you really that oblivious to what your team does on their time off? Young Anthony has become the go to man for all the agents on the other teams when they need someone to cover for them. Have to go to a kid's ballgame or an out of town wedding to attend, don't worry, Tony will always cover for you. Tony has been quietly working almost continuously for the last six months! Not that he has complained or even mentioned it; I only know this because I usually come in for a short time over the weekend to check my email, as I still refuse to allow my house to be wired for 24 hour availability. When I started to notice that Tony was always here, I quietly started asking around for an explanation."

"That can't be possible Ducky. People are always talking about Tony's conquests and shenanigans and Tony certainly doesn't deny it!" Again Gibbs felt that unexplainable annoyance at Tony's promiscuity. "The weekends are the only time available to him."

"Listen carefully Jethro. Tony never elaborates. He merely smiles, offers some quick quip and deflects the conversation. He doesn't supply any details or even corroboration. For someone who controls every minute of you subordinates' time while they are on your clock you seem to know very little about what they do when you are not there watching, and Tony is particularly good at masking what he doesn't want others to see." Seeing Gibbs stunned and somewhat defensive expression, Ducky pressed on quickly. " That boy is close to collapsing from exhaustion but seems unwilling to acknowledge his own needs or limitations."

Feeling that Ducky was somehow blaming him for this situation Gibbs snapped, "Tony is a big boy Ducky. He doesn't need a nursemaid. Besides a little extra work will help Dinozzo stay focused. Now if that's all you wanted, I need another cup of coffee." And with that Gibbs spun on his heels and headed out of the morgue, leaving Ducky shaking his head with a sad frown on his face. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, Tony's unusual behavior or Jethro's unwillingness to be concerned by it.

Although Gibbs had deflected Ducky's concern, the fact that Tony was driving himself into the ground did bother him. It seemed so unlikely that his seemingly carefree, overactive senior agent would willingly give up his free time. Gibbs had always imagined that Tony's weekends were master classes in debauchery and he had a hard time reconciling his assumptions with the information that Ducky had just shared. The fact that Tony had not mentioned his sacrifice, seeking praise and pity did not jive with the attention seeking, eager to please senior agent Gibbs had always known - the Tony who always had a joke on his lips, sassy comeback ready and waiting, and preened at the slightest compliment. Thinking about it more deeply Gibbs had to admit that Tony never seemed to want to take a lot of time off. He remembered the numerous times that Tony had been injured in the field, and how Tony was always in a hurry to get off medical leave. His mind flashed back to that awful time when Tony had contracted the plague and how Tony returned to work a full week before Dr. Pitt had wanted him to. Gibbs tried to think about when Tony had last taken a vacation. He remembered a trip to Panama City that Tony took back when Kate was still alive, but could not remember another such break. He thought about the times over the years when Tony would show up in his basement on a weekend night with a pizza and a twelve pack of beer. When was the last time that had happened? Upon reflection he realized it had been quite a while. Gibbs was even more surprised to realize how much he missed the quiet camaraderie they shared while they quietly talked as Tony watched Gibbs working on his boat.

When had he become so oblivious? He thought about his hyper awareness of Tony every time they were out on a case. Why had he not seen the signs that Tony's behavior had changed? Thinking further he realized that Abby, McGee and Ziva did not seem to notice anything different either. They all still teased Tony about his extracurricular activities and Gibbs realized that Tony never bothered to correct them. If anything his smug, veiled responses seemed to reinforce their assumptions and cause such unexplainable anger in Gibbs. He found himself developing a new respect for Tony's ability to maintain a mask but was bothered by why Tony found this to be necessary. Shaking himself slightly, Gibbs sighed and vowed to investigate this further.

When Gibbs returned from his coffee run he was surprised to find the supplies order neatly typed out and waiting for him on his desk. Glancing over at Tony he saw that the younger man was deeply engrossed in reading an old case file and typing notes into his computer. Now that it had been called to his attention he did notice that Tony looked overly tired. But before he could come up with a way to address this his phone rang and the team caught their first case of the week. A dead marine had been found in one of the parks in the Beltway. Putting down the phone Gibbs ordered Tony to call McGee and Ziva and go get the truck. Solving the mystery of Tony was going to have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, have already made a mistake. Think I uploaded the first chapter a second time when trying to put in chapter two. Will try to fix that by reloading my second chapter. I am so sorry for an inconvenience this causes. Hope someone is reading this. Don't know if getting no feedback is a supreme act of charity on your part, but as this is my first time out of the blocks I am open to constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading._

Chapter Two:

The team dragged themselves back into the bullpen late that evening, the case successfully wrapped up. Dead marine identified, motive established, bad guy caught. Ziva, McGee and Tony plopped themselves in their desk chairs and looked at Gibbs for orders. "Go home people, reports can wait till tomorrow morning." Gibbs said. Ziva and McGee didn't need to be told twice. Saying goodnight to everyone they both high tailed it to the elevator before Gibbs could change his mind. Turning away from them with his signature half smile on his face, Gibbs was surprised to see Tony powering up his computer.

"What in the hell are you doing DiNozzo?"

"Sorry boss, I'm not done with the report on cold cases yet. I still have a just a few more to summarize. I'll have it waiting for you in the morning."

"What have I told you about apologizing? Go home DiNozzo. It's been a long day and I'm not going to review those cases tonight anyway." Gibbs watched his senior agent, not liking the look he couldn't identify that briefly flashed across Tony's face before Tony schooled his expression and plastered on a carefree grin. "You look tired and I need my agents 100%" he said, waiting to see how Tony would react when he suddenly realized that Tony might think he was implying that Tony was not up to form.

"Never been better Boss. Running at 125% here." Looking up a Gibbs, and not liking the close scrutiny, he said "But since you insist, I guess this can all wait until tomorrow." Turning off his computer and grabbing his backpack Tony swiftly made to leave. "Catch you in the morning Boss. Don't work too late on the boat" and before Gibbs could even reply, Tony was out the door that led to the stairs.

Now that he was alone in the office Gibbs decided that he would look into what Ducky had claimed earlier. Sitting at his computer, smiling slightly to himself as he thought about how surprised McGee would be if he could see him, Gibbs called up Tony's time sheets for the last six months, and was stunned to see that Tony was averaging over eighty hours a week. Everyone at NCIS put in long hours, but that was excessive. Gibbs knew that no one could sustain those kinds of hours. He found himself getting angry and he wasn't sure whether he was mad at Tony for risking his own health or at himself for being so oblivious. Something was up and he was going to get to the bottom of it. Gibbs next pulled up Tony's personnel records. He had read them carefully before hiring the younger man, but had not reviewed them since. Reading through the letters from Tony's previous supervisors Gibbs started to discern a disturbing pattern. All of the recommendations lauded Tony for his exemplary work. They spoke of his ability to think outside the box and his untiring determination to close every case that came his way. They spoke of the exceptionally long hours Tony worked and all seemed very surprised that Tony was leaving and stated how his contributions would be missed. Gibbs wondered how all these supervisors could have been unaware of the fact that Tony was miserable enough to seek another job. Surely there had to have been signs. Tony had been with him for several years now and he felt sure that he would know if Tony was unhappy. Tony was there, every day, watching his six and knowing that Gibbs had his. Gibbs relied on Tony's investigative abilities and his ability to provide balance for the team. Gibbs remembered the tension and unease that lurked beneath the surface during the time that Tony was still assigned as an agent afloat. Hard to believe that had only been seven months ago, Gibbs thought. "Well shit!" Gibbs suddenly exclaimed. "Seven months ago, just before Tony apparently decided that he had to be at NCIS 24 hours a day, every day." Realizing he had spoken out loud and not knowing what to do with this revelation, Gibbs decided he was going to have to talk to Ducky about it in the morning.

The next morning Tony was already at his desk when Gibbs arrived, typing away at something. "Morning Boss, report and cold case summaries are on your desk". Gibbs wondered how Tony could be done already but before he could ask Vance's secretary called and requested his presence in MTAC.

"Gibbs, SecNav has requested your help on a case that has gone bad in NY. Grab your kit, I've got you booked on the first flight out" Vance said as Gibbs walked into MTAC. "Agent Jensen will brief you when you get there. Keep me informed. DiNozzo can run the show here while you're gone."

Walking back into the bullpen Gibbs told Tony where he was going and that he was lead while Gibbs was in NY. "Try to keep yourself and the team out of trouble while I'm gone DiNozzo. Keep me updated on what is going on. Tell Abby I'll call her when I get a chance." And with that, he was out the door.

The case in NY proved to be very bad. An Al-Qaida terrorist had been identified and it looked as if he had a informant who was a high ranking Navy officer. The NY NCIS team had not been successful in determining who he was and the SecNav had insisted that the top agents be brought in to help with the case before there was a leak to the press and the traitor got away. The case consumed almost all of his time and Gibbs had little opportunity to speak with his agents in D.C. Tony called each night and gave Gibbs a brief update on the cases they were working. Everything seemed to be going fine and Gibbs had little time to worry about his team. Tuesday turned into Friday before Gibbs knew it. When he spoke to Tony on Friday afternoon, Tony told him they were still working on a case involving possible embezzlement at one of the bases outside of the city. Tony said they had hit a brick wall and that the team was tired and frustrated. They had a bolo out on a possible informant, had gotten a couple of dead end hits off of it earlier, but had gotten nothing new in the past two days. "Give them the weekend off DiNozzo and come back on Monday with fresh eyes."

"Will do Boss. How's it going there? "

"Caught a lead today. If it pans out we may get this wrapped up over the weekend and I'll be home by Monday."

"Be careful Boss, I'm not there to watch your six."

Tired and not really thinking about what he said, Gibbs replied "I'm a big boy DiNozzo. Been doing this long before you came along."

"Yeah, you're right Boss. Probably be doing it long after I'm gone to." DiNozzo said with a laugh that sounded just a little off, causing Gibbs to silently kick himself.

"Make sure you take some down time too, DiNozzo. " Gibbs grunted, not trusting himself to say anything more right then.

"You know me Boss, always up for a little recreational time" and for the first time Gibbs heard a little trace of self deprecation in Tony's voice. Knowing he couldn't deal with it right then he merely said, "See that you do." And he hung up before Tony could reply. Looking at the closed phone Gibbs realized how much he missed Tony. Not even wanting to think about what that meant right then, Gibbs stalked back into the task force room and concentrating on finding the information that would help them close the case.

On Sunday the task force caught the break they had been hoping for. Perhaps sensing the attention of NCIS the terrorist had gotten nervous and had called his contact in the Navy. Listening in on the tapped phone line, the task force had heard the terrorist threaten the naval officer's family, demanding that he help the terrorist meet with him and help him flee the country. After arresting the officer, and arranging for protection for his family, the agents had intercepted the terrorist at the arranged rendezvous place. When Gibbs left to catch a plane back to Washington, the terrorist was being interrogated by the NY NCIS team.

Gibbs spent the flight back home thinking about the situation with Tony. "Probably be doing it long after I'm gone" kept playing over and over in his head. Gibbs didn't want to think about Tony being gone. He didn't want a team that didn't include Tony DiNozzo. Thinking about the way Tony made him laugh and the way Tony's eyes shone when he was happy Gibbs realized that he didn't want a life that didn't include Tony DiNozzo, and he wasn't thinking about work. Not prepared to explore the ramifications of that realization, Gibbs concentrated on how he was going to find out what was wrong with Tony and how he was going to prove to Tony that he was irreplaceable. Maybe Abby would know what was bothering Tony. Did he want to admit to her that he had not been paying close attention to his team? Even more importantly, did he want her to know how desperate he was becoming to insure that DiNozzo stayed put? Abby had a scary ability to zoom in on those things which Gibbs was the least comfortable talking about or even acknowledging. She would demand he explore his feelings, and Gibbs wasn't prepared to admit he had any that involved his very heterosexual lead agent. "Damn it" he cursed out loud, causing the woman in the plane seat next to him to jump and then glare in his direction. This is getting ridiculous Gibbs thought as he silently signaled his apologizes to the woman. I'm starting to talk out loud to myself. Only DiNozzo can make me this crazy. Gibbs knew he couldn't just ignore this, however. Just before Stan Burley had left Gibbs had realized that he was unhappy. He knew that Stan wanted to talk to him about what was bothering him, but Gibbs had kept him at arm's length. Before he knew what had happened, Stan had put in for a transfer and Gibbs was looking for a new senior agent. Letting that happen with Tony was unacceptable, Gibbs admitted to himself. He would have to find a way to talk to Tony. Maybe he could invite him over for a beer and pizza after work Monday. A little alcohol might help him ease into the conversation. With that plan in place, he closed his eyes and slept the rest of the way back.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much those of you who have reviewed or put my story on alert. Here is another chapter. Hope you enjoy. Let me know._

**Chapter Three:**

Late Friday afternoon at NCIS:

Hanging up the phone after talking to Gibbs Tony rubbed a hand over his blurry eye. He told the team to take the weekend and watched them leave, absent mindedly listening to them talk about how they intended to use the time off. Sitting drained of energy Tony decided that he might as well call it quits for the night and come back in early in the morning to get more work done. Tony had heard the irritation in Gibbs' voice and told himself that it was nothing that he did not deserve. He thought about all the times he had goofed off and told himself that was why Gibbs hadn't pushed hard to get him back after the fiasco in L.A. and his subsequent banishment as agent afloat. He needed to work harder, learn more, to get better. 'God, who was he kidding' he thought. He could never be good enough for Gibbs. 'Maybe it's time to dust off the old resume, DiNozzo', he thought to himself. 'You've reached your expiration date with Gibbs. He almost never corrects you anymore. He ignores your wise cracks. Hell, when was the last time he even hit you up side the head? He can't even stand to touch you anymore. What's your problem DiNozzo; it's not as if you haven't done this before.' The problem was that he didn't want to leave. He enjoyed working at NCIS. Ziva, McGee and Ducky had become important to him and he was closer to Abby than he had been to anyone in a very long time. And then there was Gibbs – the man he tirelessly sought to please – the man who used to ground him and make him feel like he mattered. Well he guessed that was over now. Gibbs didn't suffer fools. Disgusted with himself, he reached down and pulled his backpack out of his desk. Stuffing the files he had been reviewing into the pack he got ready to leave just as his phone rang. It was a response to the bolo. Some local Leo had supposedly spotted their witness going into a warehouse down by the docks and had the sense to call NCIS. Tony knew this was probably another wild goose chase but didn't want to take the chance that it could be the real deal. Not wanting to drag the whole team back just minutes after dismissing them, Tony decided he would go check it out and call McGee and Ziva if it looked like a righteous lead.

When Tony got to the warehouse he could tell that the building was abandoned. He decided to drive around the block to get a feel for the building before he went in to check out the tip. Seeing no cars or lights Tony sighed to himself, just another false start. Parking in front of the building, Tony grabbed a flashlight and hopped out. The main door was unlocked which suggested to Tony that the cop had just seen some homeless man who was probably squatting in the building. Turning on the flashlight Tony stepped through the door, sweeping the light in front of him. He could see trash piled high along the walls – boxes, open crates and bags of garbage - the refuse left behind when the last legitimate occupants had moved out. Empty food containers, the nauseating smell of human waste and dirty blankets suggested that people had indeed been living in here. Standing still and listening closely Tony could hear no sounds except for the muted traffic coming from the street outside. "Hello, anyone in here?" He listened for a response. "NCIS, come on out. You're safe; I just need to ask you a few questions." Again he stood and listened. Tony started to walk through the abandoned expanse. He shined his light behind piles of empty boxes and over the mounds of trash on the ground, but everything he saw seemed to confirm that he was the only person in the space. Sighing, Tony turned and started walking back to the door, glad that he had not bothered his other team members. Just as he got to the door, Tony thought he heard something. Stilling, he cocked his head to the side for a better listen. Just as he registered on a sound directly behind him, Tony felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and felt himself falling as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Stifling a moan in response to the throbbing of his head, DiNozzo slowly woke up. 'Great, yet another concussion!' he thought. Opening his eyes and seeing nothing he realized that he was blindfolded. It did not surprise him to discover that he was also tied hand and foot to a chair. Tony realized that he was in deep trouble. No one knew where he was and the team had the next two days off. It would not be until Monday that anyone realized he was missing. Keeping his body as limp as possible so as not to alert any watcher to the fact that he had awakened, he strained to listen to what was happening around him. As his brain cleared some he could hear a man speaking agitatedly into a phone. "He said he was NCIS" the man said and then paused to listen to what was being said to him. "How the fuck do I know what they know?" and again he paused. "I don't know how he found me. I didn't do nothing to attract their attention. This is fucked up man. I want out. You said this would be an easy score and all I needed to do was keep watch. Now I've got feds out hunting me down." His voice got louder and shriller as he went on. Tony could tell that whoever was on the other end of the phone conversation was trying to talk his captor down. The man in the room started responding with a series of "uh huh's" as he listened. Finally he said, "I'll try to get him to tell me, but I don't like this. You need to get your ass down here and help. I'll talk to you later, when I got more information" and Tony could hear the phone being closed.

There was silence for a moment and then Tony could hear the man walking towards him. Without warning Tony felt the man's hand slap across his face and heard him demanding that Tony wake up. Not wanting to alert the man to the fact that he had already been awake, Tony slowly shook his head, as if slowly regaining consciousness. "Who are you?" Tony asked. Again, Tony felt the sting of a hand slapping across his face. He could feel his bottom lip split and tasted the coppery flavor of his own blood.

"You need to answer my questions" the man said. "What are you doing here?" Tony quickly thought about how to answer the question now that he realized that their 'witness' was instead, clearly, an accomplice. Before he could respond, he felt a heavy boot land in his gut and suspected that he now had a couple of cracked ribs. "Answer me pig."

Tony decided to go with a variation of the truth. "I was looking for a witness to a crime. I wanted to make sure that he was okay" he coughed out painfully. Maybe if the man thought he was looking for someone else he would leave him alone. As he felt a valley of punches fall across his chest and face he gave up on that hope.

"Don't lie to me! Do you think I'm an idiot? How did you know I was here?" the man screamed at him as he continued to pound on Tony. Tony was saved from answering as he felt himself slip back into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Monday morning rolled back around and Gibbs strolled into the bullpen at 7:00 a.m. 'Maybe he could get his conversation with Tony out of the way early, tell Tony he was doing a good job and they could carry on as usual. Being at work would forestall any long drawn out conversation and he wouldn't be tempted to say something he couldn't take back,' he thought. Looking over at Tony's desk he was surprised to not find him there. It seemed that lately Tony always arrived before him and was hard at work by the time he got in. 'Figures, the one time I really wanted to talk to him without everyone listening in, he wouldn't be here' Gibbs thought and that notion was washed away by the shame he felt when he realized that a part of him was relieved he could put off the discussion for a little while longer. Gibbs suddenly realized it had been a whole week since his agitation with Tony had begun. He didn't usually like to let things drag out; it made him tense and disrupted his focus on the job. When a problem developed he liked to meet it head on. 'That's how I ended up with three ex-wives' he thought wryly. Why was he dreading this conversation with Tony, he wondered. Shaking himself slightly he sat at his desk and began to review the reports Tony had compiled while he was gone.

By 8:00 McGee and Ziva were in and had welcomed Gibbs back. As the clock ticked by they both kept looking surreptitiously over at Tony's desk and back at Gibbs. They both jumped every time the elevator door opened, depositing members from other teams to the start of their new week. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs could see McGee subtly using his cell phone to send a text message and Gibbs was sure that it was to Tony. By 8:15 it was clear that Gibbs was getting mad.

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?" Gibbs finally demanded to the world at large.

Ziva shrugged. "I don't know, Boss" McGee stuttered.

"Damn it! Quit texting him McGee and go ahead and call him. You'll probably wake him up. Tell him that if he isn't here in the next 30 minutes he can start looking for a new job."

"On it Boss" and McGee picked up his office phone and called Tony. Both Ziva and Gibbs watched as McGee held the phone, clearly receiving no answer. "Probably on his way in already," McGee said.

"I'm going down to see Abby; have DiNozzo call me when he gets here." And with that, Gibbs strode out of the bullpen.

"God, even when he isn't here Tony gets me yelled at by Gibbs," McGee groused.

"I am worried about him. Tony is usually early. He has not been late for a very long time. When I was late the other day he told me to remember that the early bird catches the snake."

"Worm."

"I am not a worm!"

"No, the early bird catches the worm, Ziva."

"Why would you want a worm, McGee?" she huffed and continued on. "Has Tony seemed different to you lately? He does not seem as irritating to me. It is as if his mind is on other things and he only jokes half heartedly."

"I haven't noticed Ziva. He is certainly irritating me right now" Tim shrugged and picked up his phone to try Tony again.

"Gibbs!!! You're home!" Abby shrieked as he walked into her lab, launching herself at him. "I was soooo lonely while you were gone. Tony came to visit me, but he was busy with the team and couldn't come to see me as often as usual." At Gibbs raised eyebrow she hurriedly continued, "Not that I am implying that Tony shirks his job and comes down here way more than he should. Tony would never do that. He wouldn't do anything to disappoint you. He tries way too hard to make you proud of him." Sensing she may have said too much, she continued weakly, "Well you know what I mean." Changing the subject before Gibbs could speak, she asked, "So how was NY? Gibbs 1, bad guys 0? Did you bring me anything back? Did you go to Central Park? See a show? Gibbs, you need to learn to relax, have fun. I remember last time I was in the city . . ."

Gibbs stopped listening and just watched for her to stop for a breath. Seeing his chance, he said, "Breath Abby. You're going to pass out from lack of oxygen. I missed you, too. Yah, we got the bad guy and no, I didn't have time to be a tourist," totally sidestepping the landmine that was the comments she had made about Tony. "What 'cha working on, Abs? Anything for my team?"

"Not right now. Timmy and I did a little computer sneaking on a case they caught earlier last week and discovered that money was being siphoned out of the requisitions budget at the navy base. We traced it to a bank in Chevy Chase and then hacked into the security cameras there. Pretty cool stuff, Gibbs. By checking out the time of the withdrawals on the account and comparing it to the security cameras we were able to get a glimpse of some navy guy withdrawing money at that very time. We saw him talking to another guy as he stood in line. Last I knew Tony had put a bolo out on the witness, hoping to find out what the naval officer said. I tried running a match on the officer's face but I didn't have a clear enough shot of his face. The witness blocked him the whole time. Tony is hoping the other guy can tell us what the officer looked like, but I'm sure Tony has already told you all about it."

"Tony isn't in yet, Abs."

"He isn't? That's kind of hinky. He normally beats all of us in. I hope he's okay. He hasn't seemed himself lately. I hope he's feeling alright. What if he's sick, Gibbs? He'd never tell us! I couldn't go through something like the plague again!"

Interrupting Abby, before her imagination had Tony lying peacefully in a coffin, Gibbs said, "He's fine, Abs. Probably had a flat tire or something. Ducky would have noticed if Tony was sick." 'Ducky apparently notices way more than me,' he thought but did not voice.

"You're right O' Wise One. Ducky would never let Tony get away with hiding an illness. When Tony gets in tell him I am still waiting for that double chocolate donut he promised me."

"Will do, Abs. Gotta get back upstairs. Bring you a caf-pow later on."

Gibbs decided to stop by the coffee kiosk in the lobby before going back upstairs. He was clearly going to need more caffeine this morning.

Returning to the bullpen at 9:00, Gibbs was disturbed to find that Tony was still not in.

"When was the last time you talked to DiNozzo?" he asked Ziva and McGee and was not surprised to discover that it was on Friday, as they left work.

"I am worried, Gibbs. It is not like Tony to be this late." Ziva said. "I think we should go check out his apartment," and was a little surprised when Gibbs agreed with her, saying "Gear up people. Let's go check it out."

After a trauma inducing ride to Tony's apartment, McGee gratefully climbed out of the vehicle, looking around for Tony's car. "No sign of his car, Boss," he reported.

Climbing the stairs to his apartment, none of them wanting to trust the elevator in Tony's building, they speculated about where Tony could be. None of them could come up with a good explanation for his absence. When they got to the door they were disturbed to see Saturday's, Sunday's and Monday's newspapers sitting on the floor, waiting to be picked up.

"I do not like this" said Ziva, as she picked the lock to Tony's apartment.

"Me either" said Gibbs as the door opened up.

Stepping into the apartment, they looked around. Everything was neat a pin. There were no dishes in the sink, the bed was made up, and when Gibbs touched the coffee maker on the counter in the kitchen it was cool to the touch. The answering machine on the phone in the living room was frantically beeping, indicating that Tony had twelve unanswered calls. Feeling very uneasy now, Gibbs decided that the invasion of Tony's privacy was justified and he pressed the play button on the answering machine. The first message came up. "Tony, old buddy, where are you? Its 9:30, Friday night and me and the guys are down at the sports bar. Bunch of babes here. We sure could use the maestro here, helping us get some introductions. Catch you later, bud. Come on down if you get this message." The other eleven messages were similar. Five were from different young ladies, complaining that he never called them anymore, and six others from various male friends. Listening to the messages it became clear that Tony had not been home since Friday morning.

After turning off the machine Gibbs headed for the door. "Let's get back to the office. Something is definitely wrong. We need to put out a bolo for Tony and see if we can run a trace on his car."

'Where in the hell are you DiNozzo' he thought as he threw the car in gear, barely allowing McGee to get his legs in as the car lurched backwards. McGee hung on for dear life and they flew back to headquarters even faster then they had left.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear readers: Well here you go, a little Tony angst, a little Abby and Ducky, and a lot of trying to figure out what has happened to Tony. I have been humbled by the response this story is receiving. Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to respond to this story. I can't express how encouraging that is. It is what provides me with the courage to keep going. I was afraid the story was too derivative (which might be an oxymoron since we are talking about fan fiction, lol). Hope you enjoy the new chapter!_

**Chapter Five:**

Tony woke with a start. It seemed to Tony as if he had been drifting in and out of the same nightmare for weeks. He remembered Freddy Krueger, as he had come to call his captor, demanding to know what NCIS had on him, and he had a vague recollection of his wallet, phone and car keys being taken out of his pockets. He thought he remembered there being another man with Freddy but the continual beatings made it hard for him to think clearly. He could barely remember what it was like not to hurt all over. At some point, the chair he had been tied to was knocked over, and Tony found lying on the ground, even if he couldn't move, to be a vast improvement. It had become very hard to hold up his head during his moments of wakefulness. Sighing, Tony let sleep pull him back into the recurring nightmare.

When he woke again he wondered what day it was. He had no real sense of time and the blindfold prevented him from accessing the time of day. His thoughts drifted and he found himself thinking about his friends. He was proud of them. They worked hard, and more importantly, they worked well as a team. He remembered the dark days after Kate's death, when Ziva was new to the team. Probie and Abby had been so broken and when she joined the team Ziva had been so defensive. He had worried then that they would not be able to hold it together. Tony remembered how he had ramped up the joking – Ziva providing the perfect foil as he teased her about her misuse of American idioms and proclivity to over arm, and soon McGee had joined in. He thought about the extra time he had spent with Abby, overcoming his own childhood fear of nuns and joining in on the weekly bowling dates, the lone male in a sea of women. The quiet, cherished evenings spent with Gibbs as he watched him endlessly sanding his boat, exercising his own personal therapy, floated through his thoughts. He remembered how the rhythm of the sanding had enveloped him, soothing him the way rocking calmed and comforted an infant. Tony realized that worrying about them, finding ways to ease their pain had been what had helped him to heal. He wondered if they knew he was missing yet. Did they realize how important they were to him? When had they started to drift apart? Had it been after Gibbs had left for Mexico to pull himself together or had that fucked up undercover operation with Jeanne been the turning point? Tony wished he had told them what they meant to him, but expressing real emotions was hard for him. It left you naked and Tony had discovered the hard way, at a very young age, what can happen to you when you are vulnerable. He had always thought that Gibbs understood, but lately he had not been so sure. Lately, Gibbs seemed distant and cold. His thoughts began to fog and he couldn't think straight anymore. He could feel the nightmare knocking on the door again. Unable to resist, Tony succumbed to sleep.

The next time Tony was fully conscious it occurred to him that he had not heard Freddy or his friend in a long time. He knew he had been there for quite a while because of how thirsty he was. 'Apparently ones own blood did not provide hydration,' he thought bitterly. The cold from the floor seeped into Tony's bones, and he was having trouble breathing. He had been jerked half awake often by the coughing spasms racking his body. The pain which had become his new reality demanded attention. 'Just need to hold on until Gibbs gets here' he told himself, and feeling slightly reassured, he drifted back into the sleep which was beckoning him.

When Gibbs and the team got back to headquarters, McGee immediately tried to trace Tony's phone. "No luck Boss. Looks like it's turned off."

"Check his call log, McGee. Incoming and outgoing," barked Gibbs as he paced in front of his desk.

"On it Boss"

"Ziva, get a bolo going on his car and file a missing persons report with the local Leo's. I don't care if it hasn't been twenty four hours. Tell Metro this is one of our own and we know he's in trouble. What's taking you so long McGee?"

"The records are just coming on line now. Tony's last outgoing call was to your phone Boss, at 17:35, Friday afternoon. His last incoming call was from Abby at 18:15 on the same night. " He paused, looking worried. "If Tony were okay there is no way he wouldn't have used his phone over the weekend, Boss"

Gibbs snatched up the phone on his desk and punched in three numbers. "Abs, when was the last time you talked to DiNozzo?" He paused, listened and then asked, "Hang on a second, I want to put you on speaker" and he signaled for his agents to join him by his desk. "McGee, get over here and show me how to do that," and Gibbs waited while Tim took the phone away from him, punched some buttons and hung the receiver back up.

"You're all set Boss."

"What did you talk about Abs?"

"What's this about Gibbs? Why are you asking all these questions? Where's Tony? Is he okay? "

"We don't know Abby and you were the last person he talked to on his cell phone, so I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what you discussed."

"I called him Friday night to ask if he wanted to go bowling with me and the nuns. It's been way too long since he did and Sisters Eloise and Maria have been nagging me to bring him along." This piece of information caused McGee and Ziva to exchange a quick look. "He said he was too tired and that he was going to quickly check up on a lead and then call it a day. That's pretty much it Gibbs."

"Abby, did he say what the lead was?" Ziva asked.

"No and I didn't ask. Gibbs, tell me Tony's going to be okay! "

Hearing the growing hysteria in Abby's voice Gibbs assured her, "We're going to find him and he'll be fine Abs. Stay there and I'll let you know when we learn anything." And with that, he signaled for McGee to end the phone conversation. Sighing with resignation, he knew what was coming, and mere moments later he heard the clomping of Abby's boots as they raced through the bullpen. He braced himself as she catapulted herself at him, leaving him to support the breathless and shaking ball of black that had taken up residence in his arms.

"You have to find him Gibbs! Bring him home. This can't keep happening to poor Tony. We need to take better care of him!"

Silently Gibbs agreed with the truth of Abby's last statement. Aloud he said, "Let's go down and see Ducky, Abs. I haven't told him yet and you can keep him company while we find Tony. Ziva, I want you to review all the cases you worked last week. McGee, get into Tony's computer and see if you can find out what this mysterious lead was. Call me the minute you have anything. Come on Abs" he said, putting his arm around her and drawing her towards the elevator.

Ducky looked up when he heard the doors to autopsy sliding open. Seeing Jethro enter with his arms around Abby, he braced himself for bad news. "Ducky, Tony's gone missing. No one seems to have seen him since Friday night. The team is working on finding him as fast as possible but there's nothing for Abby to do right now. I thought that she might keep you company for a bit."

Trying to digest the information Gibbs had just shared he said, "Oh course she can. I think a spot of tea is called for" He watched as Gibbs pressed a kiss to Abby's temple, gave her a hug, and wheeled to go back upstairs. "Jethro, please do bring Anthony back safe. " More sternly he added, "Make sure that you also give some thought to that issue we discussed a few days ago. I worry that it may have contributed to this situation. If you think about it hard enough you will realize that you are the only one who can make that right."

"I know Ducks. I intend to do just that after I've got him back" Gibbs said, surprising him self with this statement.

Smiling slightly to himself at Gibbs' admission, Ducky said enigmatically, "See that you do. The rewards should outweigh the initial discomfort. Nothing worth having is easily attained." Looking at Abby, he held out his arms and said, "Come along dear girl; let's put the kettle on to boil. Jethro will let us know the minute he had good news." And with that, Gibbs realized he had been effectively dismissed.

Upon re-entering the bullpen Gibbs was surprised by how quiet and tense it seemed. Gibbs looked over at his own area and saw Bob Sanders and Mike Young, a couple of agents from other teams, talking quietly to McGee and Ziva. Apparently word about Tony's absence had gotten out he thought. As he walked towards his agents, he could feel heads all around the office watching him. Glancing about he was greeted with a series of nodded heads and sad smiles. When Gibbs reached his desk one of the two men speaking with Ziva turned and addressed him, "Hope you get him back soon Gibbs. We all like Tony. He's a great guy and one of the best agents around. I know we all owe him a favor or two. Let us know if there's anything we can do." Gibbs nodded his thanks and as the agents drifted back to their own teams he wondered if Tony realized how he was viewed by his co-workers. 'Guess that's another thing we'll have to cover when I get you back Dinozzo' he thought, not willing to even entertain the idea that Tony might be gone forever.

"What ya got for me?" He demanded.

"Not much boss" said McGee. "I couldn't find anything on his computer that referenced a new lead on any existing case. I checked the files on our newest cases and looked at his email. Ziva is still looking over the hard copy on the cases we worked last week but so far hasn't found anything new."

In frustration Gibbs dragged his fingers through his hair and glared at McGee as if the situation was somehow his fault. McGee was spared from the verbal assault which was bound to follow by the ringing of his boss's desk phone. "Gibbs" he snarled into his phone. "When? Give me the location. My team will be there in just a few. Don't let anyone mess with it" and with that he slammed the phone down. "Grab your gear, local Leo's found DiNozzo's car abandoned in a parking lot at the mall in Alexandria."

Pulling into the parking lot Gibbs could see a squad car parked by Tony's car. Slamming the car to a stop, he jumped out and demanded, "Has anyone touched it?"

"No Sir!" stuttered the patrolman, who looked all of fifteen. "We waited for you."

"Good, we'll take it from here," and he pulled a glove on his hand and tried the driver side door. Finding it unlocked he ordered, "Ziva, sketch and shoot. McGee, see what prints you can pull and then bag and tag everything you find. "

It took them a while to thoroughly process the car. Gibbs had called and arranged to have the car brought back to NCIS. By the time the transport truck arrived to pick up the car the team had gotten all of the information they could from the car. They were discouraged as they watched the car being hoisted up onto the bed of the truck. There had been nothing out of the ordinary with the car. There was no sign of a struggle and nothing seemed out of place. The only worrisome element had been the discovery of Tony's backpack on the floor in the back. They all knew Tony was not likely to have willingly left it behind. McGee had pulled a few prints off the car but would not know what he had until he could get them run through IAFIS. With that goal in mind they headed back, hoping good news waited for them back at headquarters. They were all aware that time was running out for Tony.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

Gibbs called Abby on the drive back, letting her know that they had successfully gathered some fingerprints from the car, and that he wanted her to run them when they got there. 'Even if they are all Tony's it will give her something to do, make her feel as if she is contributing,' he thought. He knew that a worried and unoccupied Abby could rip through NCIS like a cannon ball, leaving destruction in her wake. The silence in the car was stifling and, glancing to his left, he noticed that Ziva was gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Turning his head to look into the back seat he saw McGee staring blindly out the window, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Gibbs didn't need to wonder what they were thinking about as he lost himself to his own memories.

"Ziva, did I ever tell you about the time I let Tony talk me into going to a _Star Wars_ movie marathon?" McGee broke the silence. "He was able to recite almost all the dialogue along with the actors. I got so annoyed with him." After a slight pause he said, "I can't remember when I had more fun at the movies."

Ziva laughed softly and said, "Yes, that is what is so frustrating about Tony. You can not decide whether to be mad at him or just surrender and join in with his silliness. When I first started at NCIS I let him talk me into going clubbing with him and Abby. All night I was bombarded by strangers crowding me, trying to talk and most asking for my autograph. I questioned Tony about this and he told me it was an American custom when meeting a new person at a club. Although I found this very strange I had not yet gotten used to living in your country yet. I finally found out that he had started a rumor saying I was a famous foreign actress and that I was going to be the next Bond girl. I pretended to be angry but I actually found it to be amusing, and it was rather fun to be a star for one evening."

"Once, before you joined the team, Tony and I" and, before he could continue, he was interrupted by Gibbs exclaiming, "Shut up, for Christ's sake! You two sound like you are at a wake. "

Ziva and McGee both glanced at him, wide eyed, and immediately fell silent. Gibbs, embarrassed by his sudden eruption, glared at them both briefly and then stared resolutely out the front window. He knew he should apologize – that they were just trying to stay off their own fears- but images of people making small talk at Tony's funeral would not leave him alone. Gibbs was shocked to discover that his hands were shaking. He had a sudden realization that he would not survive the loss of Tony. Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love. He hadn't felt this way since Shannon and he wondered how he could have been so clueless; how do you miss the fact you are in love with someone? '"The River Denial, Boss" he could almost hear Tony saying in his most teasing voice and Gibbs imagined the bright smile that would accompany that statement.

"Shit!" Gibbs started at the sound of his own voice and realized he had said this out loud. Shoving his hands under his thighs, he sent death glares at his agents, daring them to remark on his outburst. The rest of the ride was accompanied by silence.

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Once back in the bullpen Gibbs said, "McGee, take the prints and all trace down to Abby. Tell her to start by running them through IAFIS. Ziva, see if there are any messages. I'm going up to see the Director."

Barging into Vance's office, ignoring the squawked protest of his secretary, he was greeted with, "Gibbs, finally getting around to telling me what is going on? I don't appreciate hearing that one of our agents is missing through the office grapevine."

"Excuse me Director, but I have been rather busy this morning!" Gibbs snapped.

Taking in the brittle quality of Gibbs' face and body, the Director's voice softened. "Any idea what happened, Gibbs?"

"Not yet. We know he was checking out some lead, but we don't know what it was or even what case it pertained to. We wouldn't even know that if he hadn't happened to mention it to Abby in a casual conversation. Local Leo's found his car and we've processed it. Not many clues there. McGee pulled a few prints; hopefully they'll lead us somewhere."

"I've channeled all new cases to other teams for now. Your only job is to find him. Keep me informed on your progress, Gibbs."

"I will. Thanks, Leon."

"He's my agent too, Jethro. If you need more resources let me know. Now, go find DiNozzo."

"You can count on it." Gibbs said as he headed back out the door.

Exiting Vance's office, Gibbs paused by the railing and looked down at the bullpen. Everywhere he looked he saw agents frantically working – some talking on phones, many staring at computers, and others reading through mountains of paperwork. All looked competent and focused, as if free from the distractions of everyday life. For years he had secretly taken great pride in knowing he was one of the very best. He had purposely kept everyone at an arms distance. He knew that was partially to hide his own pain and tragedy, but he was also aware that it also served to strengthen his own mystic. He realized the amount of bravery it had taken for Tony to call him on something when he disagreed with him. He thought about how Tony had ignored Gibbs' indifference when he had arrived at the house, armed with pizza, a quick wit and a soft laugh. Why had Tony kept coming back for more, and more importantly, why had he stopped coming? Why hadn't he invited Tony back? Had this vanity cost him the chance of letting someone special into his life? 'When I get him back things are going to change,' he vowed to himself. And with that, he pushed himself off the rail and headed back down.

Ziva looked up as Gibbs approached. "Nothing new so far. Tim is staying down in the lab to help Abby since there is nothing for him to do up here. They have run the prints, but they were all Tony's so they are now running an analysis on the hairs and fibers we found in the car."

"What happened to Tony's backpack, Ziva?"

"We bagged it and its down in the lab."

"Has anyone gone through it yet?" Gibbs asked.

"I looked at it briefly at the scene but saw nothing unexpected – just some case notes, a few pads of paper, some pens and pencils, his sketch book, some phone messages, a few toiletries, a couple of DVD's, a candy bar, the usual," she said with a small sad smile thinking about Tony and his ever present backpack.

"Let's go down and look at it again Ziva. Maybe something got missed."

Entering the lab they saw Abby with her arms wrapped around her hippo, Bert, while McGee held a printout that they were both studying intently. Neither of them noticed Gibbs and Ziva enter. Gibbs heard her say, "Major Mass Spec has never let me down before, Timmy. He'll find something for us; we just have to be patient," and her statement was punctuated by a loud fart by Bert.

"Abby, where's the bagged evidence from Tony's car?" Gibbs asked her, causing both Abby and McGee to jump.

Abby rushed over to him and stood, demanding a hug. As he enveloped her in his arms she snuggled against him. "I miss Tony, Gibbs. You have to bring him home soon."

"I'm trying Abs," he said gently. "Show me where Tony's backpack is. Ziva and I are going to check it over once more." He allowed Abby to take his hand and pull him over to a table next to the maspectometer where Tony's pack lay, enclosed in a plastic bag.

Gibbs pulled on a pair of gloves from the box sitting on the table, nodding for Ziva to follow suit. Gloved up, Gibbs drew the pack out of the plastic and spread the contents out over the top of the table. Together, he and Ziva began re-examining everything. Notes on the pads were read and dismissed; case files glanced at, looking for any pertinent notes. The pages of the sketch pad were thumbed through, in the hopes that some clue would fall out or be revealed. Finally they were left with about a dozen crumpled phone message slips. Gibbs started looking at them. They seemed to all be work related, and seemed to be mostly notes Tony had obviously jotted down while talking on the phone to the caller. He was surprised that most of them pertained to calls he had made to Tony. He knew what most of them referenced. There was only one note which meant nothing to Gibbs. It merely contained an address. Gibbs knew any anomaly was worth investigating.

Remembering that he had been gone for a week, he asked Ziva and McGee if the address meant anything to them. Neither knew what it referred to and as they spoke McGee punched the address into the computer.

"It's a warehouse, Gibbs," he said. Abby was on her laptop and added that it seemed to have been vacant for slightly over a year.

"Why would Tony have an address for an abandoned warehouse?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs felt his gut clench. "Let's go people. This could be what we've been looking for. Abby, hold down the fort while we're gone," and he hurried out, with Ziva and McGee trailing along behind him.

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As he woke up, the first things Tony became aware of were the waves of pain that rolled across his body. He held his already labored breath, trying to lessen the ache, afraid that his mind would try to retreat and drag him back into oblivion. He was freezing, but could also feel his body wet from sweat, and he realized that he must have a high fever. He tried to call out but discovered that his voice was all but gone. He managed to produce only a ragged, feeble groan. He could tell that his arms and legs were still bound to the overturned chair, and judging from the degree of numbness in his limbs, he knew he had been there for a long time. Although he still had no clear sense of time, Tony suspected it had been several days since he had been abducted. He was so weak that he knew it was not just a result of the beatings. Dehydration and hunger were also taking their toll. He did not even want to think about the congestion he felt in his chest.

He remembered thinking that Gibbs would find him soon. How long ago had that been? Hours ago? A day? Was Gibbs back from New York? Had Ziva and McGee told him that he was missing? Would he care enough to come back to look for Tony? He felt moisture pooling in his eyes. 'Damn it, he wouldn't cry' he told himself. This was his own fault. Once again he had proved that he wasn't worthy of being on Gibbs' team. He had ignored protocol and gone to investigate a lead by himself. It was a probie mistake – no even worse – it was a mistake driven by arrogance. Tony was so sure that the lead was bogus that he had decided he didn't need back up. He didn't know how he would be able to redeem himself to Gibbs. This was likely to be his last screw up. He had proven he couldn't protect someone else in LA, now it appeared that he was incapable of even watching out for himself. Before he could journey down that depressing road any further though, all thought was washed away as gut wrenching coughs overtook him.

Panting, Tony tried to recover from his fit which had lasted far too long. He could taste blood in his mouth and he fervently hoped that he had bit his tongue during that round of coughing. He couldn't remember what he had been thinking about. Ideas seemed to float in and out of his head like ghosts in a graveyard on Halloween night. Distraction – he needed a distraction. In an attempt to calm himself he tried to imagine things he loved. He thought about hiking in the mountains, watching water trickling down the side of a flowered slope. In his mind he could see himself standing there, next to Gibbs, enjoying the peace and beauty. He gave his head a slight shake; he had never been there with Gibbs. This wasn't working! Thinking about Gibbs made him sad and he couldn't remember why. Pizza! He loved pizza, and he thought about sharing a pizza in Gibbs' basement. This wasn't working! His mind flitted to movies. 'What was the best war movie of all time?' he asked himself. _Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, Apocalypse Now, Flying Leathernecks, Battle Cry ____all great movies - all great movies about marines. Gibbs was a marine, he thought. He loved Gibbs. No, he told himself. That couldn't be right. He couldn't love Gibbs. Gibbs didn't love him. He was sure that he never allowed himself to think about Gibbs in that way. Tony was becoming more confused and agitated. Another wave of pain ripped through him. Tony wanted to curl into a ball but could not move. He had gone from being cold to feeling as though he was burning up. He needed to sleep he told himself. When he wakes up it will all make sense and he let himself sink._

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This time Gibbs was driving. McGee had thought their earlier trip, with Ziva at the wheel had been frightening. This was like watching the Indie Five Hundred on fast forward. Pedestrians, cars, and buildings flew by so quickly his brain could not register on them. 'How could Gibbs clearly see where he was going?' and that thought scared him so much he shut it out. Suddenly the car jerked to a stop, and McGee felt himself propelled forward, prevented from exiting the car through the windshield by his seat belt.

"On my six," Gibbs commanded, leaping out of the car, and drawing his gun.

They ran to the entrance of the building, and Gibbs gestured for McGee and Ziva to fall in behind him. Holding his gun out, he pushed the slightly ajar door open, stepped through, and called out, "NCIS." There was no answered. Light filtered weakly through the dirty windows and they could see debris scattered around the large, open room. "Spread out," Gibbs instructed, and they fanned out, searching through the piles of trash that littered the area.

As he searched Gibbs saw what looked like an overturned chair in the far corner. As he drew closer he could tell there was something attached to the chair. Not knowing what it was, he held up his gun and edged closer. When he got within a few feet he realized that it was a body. Rushing over to the chair, he saw a bloody and bruised man. The damage was so great it took him a second to register on the fact that it was Tony. "I've got him" he cried as he dropped to his knees beside the fallen agent. "Get the paramedics here, now!"

"Tony, can you hear me? Tony, it's Gibbs," he said, as he reached an unsteady hand out to touch him. He knew that Tony was still alive because he could hear the horrible, wheezing sound that accompanied his every breath. "Tony, come on, wake up for me," he said as he drew out his knife to cut away the ropes that bound Tony's arms and legs to the chair and to free the rag wrapped around his eyes.

"Oh my god!" McGee exclaimed when he saw Tony. Ziva uttered no words, but Gibbs could hear her intake of breath.

Glancing up at them Gibbs said, "Go watch for the ambulance," and then turned his attention back to Tony. Cording his fingers through the hair on the back of Tony's head he continued to plead with him to awaken. Although Tony did not open his eyes, Gibbs saw his mouth move. The sound that came out was so weak that Gibbs put his head down next to his agent's mouth. "Tony, can you hear me?" he asked again.

This time he was rewarded with a frail, "Boss?"

"Yeah Tony, it's me," he answered. "I got you," and he reached over and drew one of Tony's hands into his own. Tony's fingers wrapped around his tightly. "We've got an ambulance on the way. You're going to be fine. Just stay with me-do you hear? I'm not letting you go, Tony" he whispered to him. Gibbs thought that he felt a slight squeeze on his hand and then Tony's had went limp and slid to the ground. "Tony, you still with me?" He became slightly panicked when he got no answer and Tony's breathing seemed to quiet and slow down. Behind him he could hear Ziva leading help towards them.

Once the paramedics started to assist Tony everything sped up. A gurney was wheeled in at top speed. IV's and heart monitors were hooked up, and before Gibbs was fully cognizant of what was happening, Tony was being wheeled quickly to the ambulance. As they loaded him in, Gibbs hopped into the back of the ambulance, announcing his intention to ride along and glaring at the EMT's, daring them to disagree. "Get Cassie's team here to help process the scene. Call Abby. I'll be at the hospital. Tell Ducky to meet me there," Gibbs was saying as the doors to the ambulance were shut.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_Again I would like to take the opportunity to thank all of you who have gone out of your way to offer up helpful responses to this story. I would particularly like to thank Marianne and Katherine. Here is the next chapter. Sorry it is so short, but real life calls. May you enjoy it._

**Chapter Seven:**

The ride to Georgetown University Hospital seemed a blur to Gibbs. He was aware of the paramedics carefully monitoring Tony's vitals. He heard them on the radio, speaking with a trauma specialist there. He watched as medications were administered and reactions recorded. He took comfort in the fact he could see evidence of Tony's continued existence by glancing at the heart monitor which recorded a constant, if irregular heart beat. The entire experience had a surreal and unsettling quality to it. Although he was in the ambulance, sitting right next to Tony and the paramedics, he felt much like he did when watching an interrogation from the observation window - engaged and yet removed at the same time - eager for the results but frustrated by his inability to control the outcome. His peace of mind was intrinsically linked to his controlling and shaping of every situation he found himself in. His entire life had been built around maintaining control, from his early years in the Marine Corp to his present responsibilities as a team leader. Lack of control made him feel impotent, and impotency made him mad. This explained why, when the ambulance arrived at the hospital and the gurney holding Tony had been rushed into the trauma room in Emergency, it was an angry and withdrawn Gibbs who found himself standing in the waiting room.

After waiting impatiently for what seemed a very long time to Gibbs, and receiving no information about what was happening in the trauma room, a hospital worker was finally sent to get more medical background on Tony. "Sir, the paramedics informed us that you are listed as Mr. DiNozzo's next of kin. We have sent to Bethesda for his complete medical records, but it would be helpful if you could provide us with a little preliminary information now," the woman said. Even though he nodded, Gibbs fixed her with such a fierce glare that she found herself stepping back away from him. "If you could just give me a brief rundown on the illnesses and wounds he has been treated from in the last few years it will help the doctors in deciding how to treat some of his present injuries," she continued bravely.

"Do you want to start with when he had the plague?" Gibbs muttered and, as she was still trying to digest that piece of information, he proceeded to gruffly list the number of concussions, stab wounds, bullet holes, broken ribs and severely sprained appendages Tony had sustained in the line of duty over the last four years. When he was finished he looked over at her gaping mouth and realized that she had ceased to document what he was saying at some point during the recitation. Grabbing the forms and pen out of her hands, he looked to see where she had stopped recording the information and swiftly filed in the rest of the information. Thrusting the clipboard back into her hands, he grunted her dismissal. Thinking about the number of times Tony's life had been on the line had not improved his mood.

The time continued to drag on for Gibbs. Although he frequently asked at the desk for an update on Tony's condition he was told that the doctors were too busy trying to help him to come out and update Gibbs. By the time Ducky arrived at the hospital he was close to erupting. Immediately observing that everyone in the waiting room was giving Gibbs a very wide berth, Ducky suggested that they take a seat and Gibbs could tell him what he knew. "I don't know anything, Duck. That's the problem," Gibbs roared, refusing to be dragged to the far end of the room. Realizing the Gibbs was functioning on his last nerve, Ducky offered to try and get some information and successfully steered Gibbs to a nearby chair. Gibbs watched him approach the desk where he exchanged several whispered words with the duty nurse. She smiled at Ducky, rested her hand on his shoulder, and ushered him back through the large double doors that led to the inner sanctums of the ER and Gibbs found himself again waiting helplessly for someone to bring him information.

Ducky seemed to be gone for a long while before he finally emerged. Gibbs shot to his feet like a loaded spring when he saw Ducky coming, knowing from the way his friend moved that the news was not good. "Jethro, I think you should sit back down while I tell you what is going on. I know that I could use a chair right now," and he paused while he sat, forcing Gibbs to take the chair next to him before he continued. "Young Anthony has managed to get himself into quit a pickle again, Jethro, and I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that it looks good. While I was back there his heart stopped once and it took the doctors quit a bit of effort to get it started again. The beatings he received were quit severe, and he is suffering from multiple injuries. The most worrisome right now are the strain put on his heart from the massive chest trauma he suffered and lung contusions resulting from the beatings. His lungs, which were not strong to begin with, are so badly compromised that he can not breathe on his own. The doctors are prepping him for surgery to deal with the most worrisome of his injuries, an aortic dissection, which is causing bleeding between the walls of his heart. He is also suffering from a host of lesser injuries that included badly bruised kidneys and spleen and a collection of lacerations and contusions and a broken leg which are all direct results of the blunt force trauma he suffered. Although his face is not pretty right now, those injuries are primarily to the soft tissue and are not of immediate concern. In addition he has suffered a severe concussion, but the effects of that are waning. In short, Jethro, our boy is very precariously hanging onto life. I do not want to pull any punches. The next several hours will be touch and go and everything will hinge on how he tolerates the surgery. They will also be watching very closely to see if he develops pneumonia, a common side effect for those who have suffered severe bruising of the lungs, and a condition that Anthony was already susceptible to."

Gibbs sat back in his chair, stunned by the blunt recitation of Tony's injuries. The fact that Ducky did not follow his summary with a recollection from his past, more then the detailed description of Tony's injuries, told him how critical the situation was. "Do they need me for anything right now, Ducky?" he asked, and receiving a shake of the head, he stood up and announced, "I'm going for coffee. Appraise the others and tell them to stay on task. I want the bastards that did this!" And with that, he spun on his heels and exited the room, leaving a stunned Dr. Mallard in his wake.


	8. Chapter 8

_Here is another chapter – a little shorter than the others, but necessary for the story to progress. Hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Eight:**

Ducky sat blinking rapidly, watching Gibbs' rapidly departing back, and found himself not knowing what to do. He had come to the hospital with the intention of sitting with Jethro, translating the information provided by the doctors into understandable terms, and being there to offer support. Instead, he found himself sitting in the waiting room by himself, left alone to worry.

For his part, Gibbs did not know why he had felt compelled to leave the hospital. As the doors of the emergency room closed behind him, he stopped and drew in a deep breath of fresh air. The frustration had just gotten to be too much, frustration born from the not knowing, the fear, and the guilt. And he was angry – so very angry. Whirling around, he punched his right hand into the brick wall next to the entrance doors. It wasn't enough. He followed with a left jab, and then another with his right. The pain which shot up his arms felt right. Physical pain he knew how to deal with. He felt his breathing slow down and realized he had been well on his way to hyperventilating. Taking a moment to let the pain take up residence in his body, he pulled out a hanky, wrapped it around the bloody knuckles on his right hand and turned back towards the Starbucks across the street which he had seen earlier.

A bit later, armed with a large, black coffee, Gibbs re-entered the hospital. Seeing Ducky sitting in the waiting room, absent mindedly leafing through some magazine, he crossed over to him. "Any news?" he asked as he sat. Ducky, taking in the raw condition of his knuckles and the tension vibrating through Gibbs' body, merely shook his head. "These things take time" he said, trying to decide whether he dare approach the subject of Gibbs' hands. Remembering the old quote, "discretion is the better part of valor," he decided that it could wait. "I spoke with Abby whist you were out getting coffee. She is very worried about Anthony and wanted to come down here. I forestalled her, telling her there was nothing to do here right now and assuring her that we would let her know the minute we had news. But she won't keep forever, Jethro." Getting no reaction, other than Gibbs turning his head away, Ducky continued, "You will have to talk to her soon, and you must expect her to insist on coming to the hospital to see Tony for herself."

"What I expect her to do is to run all trace evidence and find out who those bastards were! What I expect her to do is what she is paid to do."

"I understand Jethro that you" and before he could get more out he was interrupted.

"No, you can't understand. Hell, I don't understand" and Ducky watched a wall shut down over Gibbs' eyes, as he moved his abused hand in a manner suggesting that the conversation was finished. Ducky sighed, but said nothing. For now, just being there was going to have to be enough.

While all of this was going on at the hospital, McGee and Ziva were experiencing their own difficulties at the warehouse. After watching the ambulance pull away McGee had, as instructed, called headquarters, updating Director Vance on what has occurred and requesting backup. What he had not anticipated was Vance telling him that, 'Yes, he would send out Cassie's team, but that he and Ziva were too close to the case, and they were to allow Cassie to take the lead, offer her support and follow her instructions while Gibbs was busy looking after DiNozzo.'

When McGee told Ziva this she said, "He is not playing with a full house if he thinks Gibbs will let another team take over this investigation."

McGee looked at her blankly, blinked, and then said, "Full deck, Ziva. Not playing with a full deck. And you're right. Gibbs will go ballistic. I don't want to be the one to tell him."

After thinking for a second she said, "He is busy at the hospital at the moment, Tim. We do not need to bother him with this information right now." She paused and looked at him intently. "It will take some time for Cassie's team to get here. We would be 'supporting' her if we started looking for evidence right now, no? And if we found fingerprints and took them to Abby, would that not be speeding up the investigation? We would not want to take away physical evidence; that would need to be photographed, bagged and processed, but getting any prints running would merely be helping. And if Abby found anything we could investigate that while the other team is busy working on the physical evidence. That would make us very supportive I think," Ziva said with a grim, hard smile on her face.

McGee swallowed; it was hard for him to stretch the rules. But then he remembered what Tony had looked like when they had found him which hardened his resolve. Nodding once, he said, "Let's get going. I'll get the bags out of the car and meet you back by where we found Tony."

Ziva went back into the warehouse and took a good look around. In their hurry to get Tony medical help, none of them had really examined the area he had been in. She studied the tipped chair, seeing the rope that Gibbs had cut when he had freed Tony lying next to it. Scanning the area, she saw a baseball bat, its thick end covered in blood. She did not need to see the results of a blood analysis to know that it was Tony's blood which had stained the light wood red. When McGee got back, she took the camera from him, taking pictures of the crime scene, making sure to get lots of shots of the rope, chair and bat. She wanted to make sure that they had photographic evidence of where the items had been found and exactly how they had looked at the scene. After she had completed this, McGee got busy looking for prints. Working quickly, he was able to pull several prints off the chair and bat but he did not take the time to study the quality of them. When they heard vehicles pulling up outside the building he stuffed the adhesive film strips containing the prints into a bag and they went out to greet the new arrivals.

Seeing them emerge from the warehouse, and noting their strained expressions, Cassie Yates said, "I am so sorry about this. We are all pulling for Tony. You guys look done in. Why don't you show us where you found him and let us process the scene. You can go back to headquarters and calm Abby down. Take some time; I'll let you know when we get done here." She was ready to push further, anticipating an argument from the agents, and was slightly taken aback when Ziva said, "I think that is a good idea. We will be waiting to hear from you." Swallowing back the protests she had not needed to make, Cassie watched them walk tiredly back to their car and get in.

The ride back to NCIS was a quiet and solemn affair. Neither Ziva nor McGee felt like talking, both lost in their private thoughts. After parking the car, they headed to the elevator, in a hurry to get the finger prints to Abby before Cassie's team returned with the physical evidence.

When they got to the lab, they were surprised to find it quiet. Walking through the doors neither of them saw Abby. She was usually to be found either at the computer on her desk or standing in the center of the room, dancing between 'Major Mass Spec' or some other piece of equipment that aided her in performing her forensic miracles. Looking around the room, McGee was the first to spot her in the far corner, on the floor, curled into a tight ball, hugging Bert to her chest.

"Abs" he said softly.

"Oh Timmy!" she cried, leaping up and throwing herself at him.

McGee wrapped his arms around both she and Bert, raising a hand to snuggle her head into his shoulder. "He's going to make it Abs. Tony is the strongest person I know."

"How many times can he keep being strong?" Abby asked, brokenly.

"As many times as he needs to," said Ziva firmly, coming over to stand next to them. "Tony would never do anything to let Gibbs down, and dying would certainly make Gibbs mad," she added, hoping a little levity would ease Abby's pain.

Abby pulled her head away from McGee and gave Ziva a small smile. She stepped back from McGee and squared her shoulders. "Right" she said, wiping a hand across her eyes, which were dangerously close to flowing over. "What have you got for me?"

"Vance has assigned Cassie's team to take lead on this. He says we are too close to it and that we should take a back chair and merely help."

"Seat- a back seat," Abby corrected automatically.

"We have some prints to run Abby. It just might be that Cassie does not know we have these prints. We have brought them to you, hoping it will provide an avenue of pursuit. If you were to find something McGee and I could follow up on it, thereby providing that help. None of us would even need to mention this to Cassie. We would not want to distract her from the primary investigation." Ziva said, giving Abby a conspiratorial look.

Abby looked up at McGee, knowing that this dangerous game must be hard for him. He looked her straight in the eye and nodded. Abby held his gaze for a minute, looking for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she nodded and said, "Then I guess we should get busy helping. Give me those prints and let's see what we can find out."

And with that, McGee pulled the film with the prints preserved on them out of his bag, and the three co-conspirators set to work.

And while all of this was taking place, both in the lab and the waiting room at the hospital, the object of everyone's concern was floating in a hazy sea of white, neither awake nor truly asleep, but rather, in an altered state rendering him oblivious to his surroundings and the trauma his body was fighting to overcome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

Tony desperately fought the fog enveloping his brain. He needed to be awake; he needed to do something, unfortunately he had no idea why or what. Everywhere he looked he saw a white film, obscuring everything else. He redoubled his efforts to focus, and slowly, little bits of his surroundings became clear. He realized he was in a surgical room. He could see men and women masked and gowned. Straining for more clarity he tried to study the operation. The doctors and nurses looked quite intense. They huddled around, alternating their attention between the patient and the myriad of machines, all of which beeped and flashed. There seemed to be intense conversation being exchanged, although he could not hear them clearly. He strained to get closer, and was surprised that no one seemed to notice him. As things became clearer he was shocked to discover that the patient was himself. How was that possible? Did this mean he was dead? 'No', he told himself. 'If I were dead they wouldn't still be operating on me.' For some reason that thought seemed to free him.

He lost interest in the proceedings unraveling before him and allowed his mind to drift. It occurred to him that it was probably important for him to remember how he got to this point. Little snatches of memory returned to him. He recalled a warehouse, but wasn't sure of its significance. He remembered intense and prolonged pain and wondered if that were linked to why he was here. He looked back at his body, hoping it would provide a clue, and was immediately sorry he had done that. There were clamps on his chest, pulling back the skin, and Tony found himself staring directly at his heart. In an oddly detached manner he thought, 'That can't be good.' Looking up, away from his heart, he studied his face. His eyes were swollen black and blue and his cheeks were covered in bruises, there seemed to be innumerable small cuts all across his face. He could tell that even if he was awake he would not have been able to open his eyes. There was a large tube running from his mouth, but that did not concern him; he was being operated on after all. Somehow he knew that the warehouse, the pain and the bruises were all related but he could not find the link, and he let it go and just allowed himself to float again.

Almost idly he wondered what the rest of the team was doing. Did they know he was in surgery? He was sure Gibbs knew, although he could not say why. Thinking about Gibbs seemed to disturb the peaceful, dreamy aura which had surrounded him. For some reason he felt that he had disappointed Gibbs but did not know how. He sensed that it was very important to please Gibbs, but he could not recall why. His mind flashed on memories of Gibbs laughing and smiling and he felt a sense of longing. He then saw images of Gibbs glaring and stalking away from him and he began to feel agitated. Then thoughts of a gentle touch and fingers caressing his hair replaced the unpleasant memories and he felt oddly soothed again and his thoughts became hazier. Miscellaneous pictures ran through his mind, and then he saw himself and Gibbs, engaged in a tight embrace, lips joined together. A lie, he knew that image was a lie. Longing washed back over him. Then the memories of an angry Gibbs returned and those felt real.

Something inside him ached, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He looked around again and found himself back in the operating room. Sharp pain infused him. He saw the doctors frantically talking and leaning over his body. He was vaguely aware of the machines screaming out warnings, and he suddenly felt himself tumbling down, as if falling from a great height, and then he knew no more.

In the waiting room, Gibbs and Ducky continued their silent vigil. Looking over at his companion Ducky registered on the fact that Gibbs' coffee was apparently gone, as he was unconsciously squeezing the cup in half. That reminded him of Gibbs' mauled hands. He knew what had happened; that the wounds had been self inflicted. Ducky had seen him in the throws of a blind rage before. Studying Gibbs he tried to gage his emotional state. His face was rigid, as if carved from granite. His eyes were cold and partially hooded. 'He might as well be standing at attention,' Ducky thought. He could not tell if the uncontrollable anger had abated. Deciding that something needed to be done about the injury he carefully said, "Jethro, the surgery is likely to continue for some time. Perhaps we should have someone look at your hands."

"They're fine." Gibbs hissed.

"Now you sound like Anthony," Ducky rejoined.

"No, if I sounded like Tony I would be gasping for breath and whimpering in pain." Gibbs barked, and then caught himself and quickly shut up. Glaring at Ducky, he threw himself out of the chair and began pacing.

'Well, apparently he _is_ still angry,' Ducky thought silently. Aloud, he asked, "Just who are you mad at Jethro?"

Gibbs immediately swung his attention back to Ducky, stared at him for a long time and then spun away from him. With his back still to him, Gibbs tersely announced, "I'm going to step out and call Ziva and McGee to see what's going on with the investigation." And with that, he stalked towards the door again.

Watching him leave, Ducky knew something was going to have to be done about this. He remembered back to when Jethro had escaped to Mexico. That could not happen again. Jethro could not allow his anger to consume him. The others were going to need him. Anthony was going to need him. Jethro had to face up to the situation and he feared that he was the one who was going to have to make that happen. Sighing audibly, he reached for the discarded magazine, glanced at the door Jethro had just exited, and settled back in for a long wait.

Finding himself outdoors once again, Gibbs stopped and looked around. He glared at the wall, remembering the satisfaction he had derived from pounding his fists into it; unfortunately he did not think that would work again. He looked across the street, and was surprised to find that coffee held no appeal. In fact, he could think of nothing which would calm the churning in his gut. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his cell phone and punched in McGee's number, hoping to hear some good news.

In the lab, Abby, Ziva and McGee were huddled around the computer which was running the scanned fingerprints through IAFIS's databases. Focused intently on their task, they all jumped when McGee's phone rang. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and said, "Oh shit, its Gibbs," and then he froze, seemingly unable to answer it.

Abby snatched the phone from his hands and screamed into it, "Gibbs, how's Tony? Ducky wouldn't let me come down to the hospital!"

"Stop it Abby," Gibbs said. "He's in surgery right now and there's nothing you could do here. What you can do that would be useful is to find out who did this to Tony."

Stinging from Gibbs sharp words she swallowed and said, "I'm working on that right now, Bossman. Ziva and McGee brought me some prints they found and I'm running them through IAFIS."

"Give the phone to McGee," and Abby lowered the phone from her ear and handed it to McGee.

"Um, hi Boss" McGee stuttered. He could tell from the expression on Abby's face that Gibbs was on the warpath.

"Report McGee!"

McGee could feel himself standing straighter, more rigid, and began, "We found a bat next to the chair Tony was tied to and got prints off both the bat and the chair. We just got them back to Abby and she's running them right now."

"What about the rope McGee? Does Abby think she will be able to pull any DNA or trace off it?" and his frown deepened when McGee did not answer; his gut telling him there was a story here. "McGee, is there something you want to tell me?" he asked dangerously.

"Well, you see Boss" and he was interrupted by Gibbs snapping, "No I don't see, McGee."

"Um, Abby doesn't have the rope yet. Cassie's team is still at the scene processing the evidence."

"So how did you get prints for Abby to run then?" Gibbs asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

It was then that McGee's resolve abandoned him. What followed was a rush of words, barely decipherable. "WellyouseeBoss,VancegaveCassie'steamthelead" and he paused for a quick breath, "andZivaandIcouldn'tlivewiththatsowekindofcollectedtheprintsbehindherback." His voice had gotten higher and higher as he had progressed, and it cracked when he said 'behind her back'.

His announcement was met with silence and he wasn't sure if Gibbs was trying to figure out what he had said or how he was going to kill him. He hung his head, not wanting to meet Abby's or Ziva's eyes.

"So Cassie doesn't know you guys are running these prints?" McGee heard Gibbs ask.

"Um, no Boss."

"What _does_ she think you and Ziva are doing?"

"She told us to stand down and head back to headquarters to comfort Abby."

"Call me the minute you get a hit. And McGee, make sure you avoid Cassie and Vance." And with that he hung up, leaving a stunned McGee staring at the phone in his hand.

"Way to go McGee" Ziva huffed. "You just crumbled like a deck of cards," and Abby and McGee both said "house" simultaneously. "I suppose he wants us to let Cassie know what we have done."

McGee shook his head slowly, as if trying to clear away cobwebs, "No, he wants us to stay away from both her and Director Vance and to call him when we get a hit."

Their shocked faces mirrored the look on Gibbs' face as he closed his phone. He had no idea how everything had gotten so out of control. McGee and Ziva had gone vigilante on him, dragging Abby along with them. Tony had apparently been working himself into the ground, withdrawing from his usual activities and friends. He had managed to remain oblivious to any change in Tony. And, to top it all off, Tony had willingly endangered himself and was now fighting for his life. Nothing made any sense to Gibbs. He could feel his hands starting to shake again and his legs did not feel much steadier. Looking around he spotted a bench and went over to sit. He sat down, put his arms on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. His breathing had become ragged and he his vision blurred. Taking several deep breaths, he began to feel his pulse rate slowing back down. He sat like that for a very long time and he had just begun to feel better when Ducky came rushing out of the hospital and hurried over to him.

"You need to come back in Jethro. They just told me that one of Tony's surgeons will be out momentarily and wants to speak with you. "

All of the progress Gibbs had made calming himself down evaporated instantly. As he shot to his feet to follow Ducky his heart was once again beating violently against his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

_Wow, chapter ten, double digits. Who would have guessed? Certainly not me. Here goes another chapter. It includes a long winded parable by Ducky. Hope he didn't get too preachy. Just had to let him run with it once in the story. I should probably issue a 'severe angst' alert at this point. Need to get it out and then we'll move on. Hoping you like. _

**Chapter Ten:**

Gibbs rushed back into the hospital, Ducky fast on his heels. When he got to the desk he demanded of the woman working there, "I understand the doctor wants to speak with me. I'm Jethro Gibbs."

"Oh, I know who you are, sir," she said warily. "The doctor will be out as soon as he is able. Why don't you go back to the waiting room and he will find you. He got called back to surgery but does need to speak with you."

Ducky watched Gibbs suddenly deflate. After a moment or two he said, "Come on Jethro," gently touching Gibbs on the shoulder as he just stood there, staring at the receptionist. Gibbs allowed himself to be steered back to the lounge and positioned over a chair. Ducky was alarmed by the change in Gibbs' demeanor, preferring the anger over the zombie like quality he was now exhibiting. "Jethro, why don't you sit down," Ducky said, watching him carefully, as Gibbs lowered himself into the chair, noticing the slight tremor in his hands.

"Why would he be called back into surgery, Ducky?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"There is any number of reasons for that. It does us no good to speculate. We must simply wait until the doctor can see us." Ducky nodded to himself; at least now he knew what had caused the disturbing transformation in his friend. Realizing there might be no better time, he then asked, "Would you let me look at your hands now Jethro?"

"Whatever." was the reply he received.

When Gibbs made no move to produce his hands, Ducky reached over and drew them to him. T he left hand was reddened and had some minor scrapes on the knuckles. The right hand, however, looked horrendous. It had started to swell and was already showing impressive bruising, and the knuckles had open cuts on them. Ducky placed the hands back on Gibbs' lap, patted the left one and said, "I'll be right back Jethro. I just need to get a few things." He went back up to the desk and had a few quiet words with the receptionist. She picked up a phone and after a few minutes a nurse emerged, armed with a small plastic tray. Ducky led her over to Gibbs, and did not know whether to be glad or saddened when he discovered that Gibbs had not moved an inch since he had left. Using sterile pads and some sort of solution which was on the tray, the nurse cleaned both of Gibbs' hands. Ducky then rotated the fingers and wrist of each hand and informed the nurse that nothing appeared to be broken. Together they dressed the open wounds on Gibbs' right hand with pads and antiseptic cream, wrapping gauze around the whole hand to hold the pads in place. When they were done, Ducky thanked the nurse and promised her that he would keep an eye on the right hand. Through all of this, Gibbs had remained unnaturally docile and removed.

Ducky knew the lethargy encompassing Gibbs would not last. It was merely his brain's way of protecting itself, after having spent too many hours at an emotionally charged fever pitch. Emboldened by his success with the hands, Ducky decided that now might be the time to broach the subject of Gibbs' responsibilities towards Anthony.

"Jethro, did I ever tell you about my friend Thomas?" He asked, not really expecting a response, but watching to make sure that Gibbs was listening. "He is a novelist who writes primarily mysteries, not unlike young Timothy, although Thomas' books are usually centered on a main character named Dr. Joseph Quinley. I think about him every time I am at a hospital. Thomas and I met many years ago, whist I was in the medical corps in Cyprus. Thomas was a corporal and when I first met him he was being treated for severe injuries he had suffered whilst trying to save several members of his section during a battle. Those who knew of the incident recounted Thomas' extreme bravery and self sacrifice. My fellow doctors were quite worried about Thomas. You see, they had spent exhaustive hours working to save his life, and had been quite pleased with their results. Inexplicably, however, Thomas did not seem to be improving and they feared for his life. It was as if he had no desire to get better. Finally, one of my colleagues implored me to speak with Thomas. Apparently he thought I had a knack for understanding people and getting them to open up to me,"

Ducky paused here; checking to make sure his audience was still attentive. "Over the next few days I spent many hours with him. I learned that he had come from a small town in England and had joined the military as a way to see the world. Along the way he made many friends, none more important to him than a young man named Ellis, who was the captain of his platoon. When they first met they discovered they were from neighboring villages and on the commonality they forged a friendship. Over time they became inseparable. Not only did Thomas like Ellis, he respected him deeply and sought to model his own behavior after Ellis'. After much prodding I learned that they had both been a part of the skirmish withTurkish Cypriots which resulted in Thomas' injuries. Thomas knew many of the men in the section he led had not made it, although no one had thought it wise to discuss the details with him while he was doing so poorly. He blamed himself, thinking he should have protected them better. I assured him that death was an unfortunate, but inevitable byproduct of war, and that all accounts of the event credited him with heroism above and beyond the call of duty. When I said this, he turned his head and muttered something that sounded like 'tell that to Ellis.' I pressed him to explain himself. I finally learned that Ellis had not come to see him whilst Thomas had been in the hospital. He had convinced himself that this was because Ellis was ashamed of him – disappointed by his failure to protect his men. I assured him this was not true, and that surely he was only detained by his own responsibilities to his platoon. I left his room that day jubilant over having found the root of Thomas' failure to thrive. I hurried to my colleague who had asked me to ferret out Thomas' unhappiness, pleased that the solution was merely a visit from a dear friend. I was unprepared for the look of sorrow on his face after I had gleefully offered him the cure to Thomas' decline. You see, Ellis had not survived the battle. He had died on the operating table hours after Thomas had been brought in."

Ducky stopped for a second, clearly affected by the story. Clearing his throat, he continued. "Once we knew what had caused Thomas' melancholy we were able to address it. It wasn't easy to tell him about Ellis, and harder still to convince him that he had not let him down, but through time and patience we finally succeeded. He and I have kept in touch all these years."

Again Ducky paused and he looked steadily at Jethro until he had his eyes. He knew that Jethro was not at his best and Ducky wanted to make sure that he did not miss the significance of the story. "You see, over the years I have learned a great deal from this story. At first I was impressed by the power of friendship. As the years have gone by, however, I have often thought about how it illustrates a person's ability to punish themselves far more severely than another could do for them. Have you ever realized how it is only the truly good people who ever suffer from this? And, of course, it is impossible not to see how Thomas' plight points up the need to tell those you care about how you feel. You know, I'm reminded of what G. K. Chesterton, the English essayist said, ' When it comes to life the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude. ' I am afraid we are all guilty of not living up to that sentiment at times."

Ducky did not expect this to lead to a soul baring exchange with Gibbs, but was satisfied when Gibbs nodded and said, "Duly noted Duck." Confident that he had done what he could, Ducky allowed them both to lapse into silence, resuming their quiet vigil.

Gibbs may not have been speaking, but his mind was churning out a silent monologue. That's what Tony had been doing; he had been punishing himself. Tony wore a confident, devil may care mask, but Gibbs had always known that things got under Tony's skin easily. Back in the old days, which for Gibbs referred to the pre Jeanne Benoit days, Gibbs knew that if a case went bad or hit too close to home he could count on Tony showing up at his house, offering up a pizza as the price of admission. He had always known on some level that Tony had found solace in their stilted conversations, designed to carefully avoid any topic of real significance. He knew that Tony stayed until some need in him had been satisfied, his departure signaling a type of healing, not just for him but for both of them. Where had Tony been getting that comfort lately? Gibbs realized that he did not like the idea of someone else providing for it for Tony. Tony was his. Then he thought, 'What if it was too late; what if he never got the chance to show Tony the gratitude he deserved?'

"Totally unacceptable!" Gibbs blurted out loud, startling himself, Ducky and the doctor who had just arrived to speak with him.

"Um, yes," said the doctor, recovering from his surprise. "You must be Mr. Gibbs. I'm Doctor Anderson, one of Mr. DiNozzo's surgeons." he said, extending his hand.

"Just Gibbs is fine. This is Doctor Mallard, Tony's personal physician and our M.E. at NCIS" said Gibbs, as he shook the doctor's hand. "What can you tell me about Tony?" he asked anxiously.

"Do you mind if I sit down? It's been a long day," said the doctor, pulling a chair over to where Gibbs and Ducky sat, using the time to settle on how he would begin. Sitting down, he continued, "As you know, Mr. DiNozzo suffered several severe injuries, more than one of them being life threatening. We had a hard time stabilizing him enough to even get him into surgery. Our primary concern was to stop the bleeding around his heart caused by a tear in the aorta, knowing that the other injuries would keep. We came very close to loosing him a couple of times, once before the surgery and another time, not too long ago. We were able to get his heart started again, each time. What bothers me is that there was no discernable reason for his heart to stop the second time. We had successfully repaired the rip and were controlling his breathing with a ventilator. Orthopedic surgeons are working on his leg right now and they don't expect there to be any permanent damage. When someone presents with trauma at the level Mr. DiNozzo exhibited, it is always possible to miss something, no matter how carefully we examine him. I don't think this is the case here, but I would be remiss in not letting you know that I am concerned. Obviously we will be monitoring him closely when he gets out of surgery. The bruising to his organs is a real concern and we are very sensitive to the possibility that he will develop pneumonia, given his medical history. We will be consulting with Dr. Pitt about that on a regular basis. He will be moved up to ICU after the surgery. We're debating the merit of putting him in a medical coma, to allow his body to heal more rapidly. Our only hesitation is the adverse effect it could have on his lungs and the difficulties it could create once we are ready to wean him from the ventilator."

"When can I see him, Doctor?" Gibbs asked.

"Once we get him up to ICU I'll let you see him for a short time. He won't be awake, even if we forego the coma. He's going to need a lot of support over the next several weeks and you need to understand that there is still a chance we could loose him," and he paused to see how his words were being received.

"You take care of his medical requirements Doctor, I'll make sure he gets everything else he needs," vowed Gibbs, with a degree of intensity that sent a small shiver up the doctor's back.

"Well, I want to get back and make sure he's doing fine. If you want, the waiting room for ICU is on the third floor. I'll stop in there to see you as soon as Mr. DiNozzo is transferred up," and with a nod to Ducky, he hauled himself to his feet and headed back to the O.R.

Ducky looked over at Gibbs, fearing the worst, and was surprised to find Jethro looking more focused and composed than he had in quite a while. Perhaps Jethro had worked some things out for himself he mused privately. Together they moved to the elevators and headed up to the third floor.

Once they arrived at the new waiting room, Ducky said, "Jethro, it will be a while before he is brought up here. I could use something to eat, what about you?"

"I'm fine. "

"What about a cup of coffee? I could bring you one back."

"That would be great. And Ducky, thanks."

Smiling, Ducky just nodded. He knew Jethro was talking about more than the offer of coffee.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Gibbs stood in the ICU waiting room, looking out at the nurse's station, wishing there was something constructive he could be doing. Pulling out his cell phone, he decided he would check in with McGee. Just as he was about to punch in the number, a small, blonde, middle aged nurse hurried over to him.

"Sir, didn't you read the signs? I need you to turn your cell phone off right now! They have been known to interfere with the equipment here causing hazardous incidents - hazardous incidents which include the sudden switching off or restarting of machines - which could mean disruption of a patient's feeding tube, ventilator, pacemaker or dialysis machine. Surely you wouldn't want that to happen to _your_ patient," she said, with quite a bit of steel in her voice.

"Sorry," Gibbs said sharply. "Just got up here and didn't see the sign," pressing the button that shut his phone off. Then, since he had her there, he demanded, "Is there any word on when Anthony DiNozzo will be brought up here?"

"Oh," she said. "You must be Mr. Gibbs. E.R. called up here to warn, I mean, to tell me that you would be on your way up. We haven't heard anything yet. We were asked to have a room set up for him so they must be planning to bring him up soon. Listen, I know you've had a long, frustrating day but if you are going to be here on a regular basis we might as well get some things straight right now. My name is Karen Olson and I'm the supervisory nurse here. I will keep you updated on anything relevant to Mr. DiNozzo's health and well-being. I will not, however, be badgered and interrogated on a regular basis. Nor will I allow that to happen to my nurses. Once Mr. DiNozzo is admitted to this floor and settled in, you will be allowed to visit him for five minutes, once an hour. The chairs over there recline, and you are welcome to use them to catch some sleep. If you fall asleep, I will be glad to wake you up so that you don't miss any opportunity to see Mr. DiNozzo."

Gibbs looked at her, a little flabbergasted. "Agent," he said, drawing himself up, not willing to be bested.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Agent DiNozzo," he said, knowing he was being petulant, but unable to stop himself.

Smiling a little, as if acknowledging a worthy adversary, she said, "Agent DiNozzo." Then, not to be outdone, she said, "You will also allow me to examine your hand on a daily basis, change the dressings, and not lie to me if you experience any numbness or tingling in it."

"Deal," Gibbs snapped, not wanting to do anything which would prevent him from being there for Tony.

"Very good," she said, and turned on her heels and headed back to the central nurse's station.

"Humph" Gibbs grunted, but was surprised to discover that he was smiling for the first time in ages. Hearing a quiet chuckle, he turned and saw Ducky standing in the doorway.

"Looks like you've met your match, Jethro," he said, smiling as he handed over an enormous container of coffee.

"Just don't want 'She Who Must Be Obeyed' to make it hard for me to see DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, as he took an appreciative sip.

Giving Gibbs a paper bag, Ducky said, "I also brought you a sandwich, hoping you would eat it. It won't do for you to get sick as well."

Taking the sandwich out of the bag, smelling the bacon wafting up, Gibbs was surprised to discover that he was, in fact, hungry. As he ate the sandwich he told Ducky what Karen had said about them preparing a room for Tony.

"That means he's in recovery, Jethro, and that is very good news," Ducky said, clapping Gibbs on the shoulder, as he moved to take a seat. Gibbs followed suit, and together they sat, waiting for Tony to arrive.

While Gibbs and Ducky were waiting for Tony to be brought up to ICU, there was much celebrating going on in Abby's lab. Minutes ago, the computer had pinged out a signal, announcing matches on the fingerprints from the bat and chair. Abby, Ziva and Tim had rushed over, high fiving each other when they saw the results. IAFIS had identified five sets of prints.

"Send the names to the other computer Abby. Then cross reference the prints and see which prints were found on both the chair and the bat. Ziva, you call up the records for our five suspects. Let's get to know all about them."

"Timmy, I love when you get all Gibbsian," Abby said, as she did a little dance in front of the computer as she waited for the results. "Ah ha, got it. Only one set of prints were found on both items. John David Lynch. Oh, he's been a bad, bad boy," Abby said as she looked at the record that had popped up on the screen.

"Hang on Abs. Ziva, what have you got?" he asked as he watched her busily reading files on the other computer.

"The other four set of prints all belong to men with minor records for vagrancy, public drunkenness and petty theft- mostly shop lifting. I would bet they are some of the homeless people who have stayed in the warehouse. Abby is right, John Lynch has a much more interesting criminal history."

"Go ahead and tell me about him, Abs," McGee said.

"He's twenty six years old and served for a year in the navy, before receiving an Other Than Honorable discharge, stemming from charges of vandalism and aggravated assault. He's been in and out of jail for the last couple of years, mostly for burglary and assault. He's not a nice guy, Timmy."

"He is our most likely suspect, Tim," Ziva said. "Just to be safe, however, I have sent all five records to the printer."

"Do we have a last known address on Lynch?" McGee asked, watching as Ziva nodded in answer.

Tim looked hard at both Abby and Ziva, swallowed, and then said, "Abby, wipe all traces of these searches off your computer. Ziva and I need to get out of here before Cassie gets back. If Cassie asks where we went, I want you to tell her we said we were going to the hospital to see Tony. Ziva and I will call Gibbs just as soon as we get out of here. Make sure you cover your ass, Abs. There's no reason for us all to get in trouble." He went over to the printer and retrieved the material Ziva had sent to it.

Abby threw an arm around a reluctant and stiff Ziva, dragging her over to McGee, and proceeded to wrap her other arm around him. Holding them both in an unwieldy embrace she exclaimed, "Make sure you take care of the boss man and yourselves. I'll never forgive you if any of you gets hurt."

Extracting herself and awkwardly patting Abby on the back, Ziva said, "We will try, Abby."

"You'd better do more than try, missy." Abby said.

Kissing her on the forehead, McGee said, "Bye Abs," and he and Ziva headed out of the door.

"Now I have four people to worry about," Abby said softly to herself, as she picked Bert up off the table and wrapped him in her arms tightly, producing a soft fart.

Leaving Abby's lab, Ziva and McGee headed to the parking garage. Ziva hurried to the driver's side of the car and glared at McGee, daring him to argue. He just sighed and slid into the passenger's seat. He immediately put on his seat belt and then took out his cell phone and punched in Gibbs' number. Puzzled when he received no answer, he looked over at Ziva.

"He's not answering. That doesn't make sense. He said to call when we had a match."

"Perhaps he is on the other line. He would not know how to use call waiting," Ziva answered. "Let us drive out of here and we can try him again in a second." And with that, she slammed the car into reverse and headed up the exit ramp.

Just as they were pulling away, Ziva saw Cassie's team truck returning. They both knew this meant their head start would soon evaporate. After trying Gibbs again, and getting no answer, Tim asked, "Do you think we should head to the hospital?"

"Look at Lynch's sheet McGee. Where is his last known address?"

"Damn, it's all the way over on the northeast side. If we drive all the way over to the hospital and then have to head back north, there's a chance Cassie could get there before us. It all depends on what she decides to do once Abby gets her the results," McGee said.

"What would make Gibbs angrier, being left behind or we giving up the lead to another team and risking the chance that Lynch could get away? I saw we head in Lynch's direction and keep trying to get Gibbs on the phone. What do you think Tim?"

"I think we're screwed either way, but if we're going down, I want to know we got the bastard that did that to Tony."

And with that said, Ziva pulled a sharp u-turn, and headed off in the opposite direction while McGee punched a number on his phone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

Oblivious to McGee's attempts to reach him, having forgotten about his order for McGee to contact him when he found out something, Gibbs sat in the waiting room, quietly listening to Ducky talk. He was feeling better, knowing Tony had pulled through the surgery and would soon be out of recovery; his earlier meditations providing him with new resolve.

Dr. Anderson stuck his head into the waiting room, looking for Gibbs and Dr. Mallard. He was clearly exhausted, the circles under his eyes making him look older than his thirty some years. His medium brown hair was darkened with sweat, and there was an indention all around his head where his surgical cap must have at one time sat. Seeing them sitting in chairs near a magazine laden coffee table, he crossed over to them.

"Mr. DiNozzo is in his room now. The surgery to repair the leg went as smoothly as expected and we haven't had any more scares since I last spoke with you. We've decided to hold off on the coma for right now. We'll being monitoring his vitals closely and may revisit that issue tomorrow. He's asleep right now, still very heavily anesthetized. He is still on the ventilator and probably will be for some time. We've still got a long road to travel."

He looked at Gibbs, letting a small smile play across his face. "I understand you spoke with Nurse Olson, so you are familiar with the regulations about visiting. I would keep the number of people who visit right now to a bare minimum. We usually recommend that it only be family or very close friends. We have to keep him as calm as possible. We will keep him heavily sedated but visitors can help with this. It's important that you remember that right now he is as in control of his recovery as any doctor. " He gave them a second to digest this information and then asked, "So would you like to see him?"

Gibbs glanced at Ducky, who nodded him forward, and then stood to follow Dr. Anderson. Stepping into the actual ward, Gibbs was startled by how bright it was; the nurses' station was swathed in lights and the enormous console, equipped with monitors and control panels looked like something one would find on the bridge of a space ship in a sci-fi movie. Each patient room seemed to emit a cold, white/blue glow. The air seemed to have dropped ten degrees, and he now understood why Nurse Karen had worn a fuzzy, soft blue cardigan sweater over her pink stripped scrubs. What surprised him the most, however, was the noise. The room virtually vibrated with the beeping, whirling and whine of the various monitoring equipment being used to keep the patients safe. The mechanical ventilators provided a strange, syncopated rhythm to the din. Voices of the nurses, softly talking to patients, hummed through the air. This seemed so foreign after the oppressive silence that had permeated the waiting room.

Halting outside a room, Dr. Anderson looked over at Gibbs, as if accessing him. "Ready?" he asked.

Gibbs just nodded and stepped into the room. Looking over at the bed, he came to a dead stop. It was hard to find Tony around all the equipment littering the room. "There's a lot of stuff in here," he commented rather feebly.

"Yes, I know it can be a bit off putting," Dr. Anderson said kindly. "When someone is in Mr. DiNozzo's condition there is so much we need to monitor. Let me explain some of this and maybe it won't seem so bad. The machine directly to his right is a physiologic monitor that uses the sensors hooked to his body to measure the electrical activity of the heart via an EKG, respiration rate (breathing), blood pressure, body temperature, cardiac output, and amount of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the blood. It is networked to the nurses' station. Over there is an apnea monitor—continuously monitoring his breathing. An apnea monitor detects cessation of breathing and triggers an alarm if a certain amount of time passes without a patient's breath being detected. "

Stepping closer to Tony's bed, Dr. Anderson continued, touching each piece of equipment as he described it. "Of course you know this the ventilator. They are large because they consist of a flexible breathing circuit, gas supply, heating/humidification mechanism, monitors, and alarms. We will continue using it until Mr. DiNozzo seems strong enough to try breathing on his own. It also allows us to control the quality of air he receives, important if he does develop pneumonia. On the intravenous poles by his bed are infusion pumps which hook to the catheters in his arm. One is providing him with anesthesia and other drugs, another with blood to supplement that which he lost during surgery and the beatings. Another is providing nourishment. Over against the wall we have a crash cart. Given what happened earlier, we wanted to have one near in case it is needed. It's equipped with a defibrillator and medication box. Hopefully we won't be using that on Mr. DiNozzo."

Suffering from informational overload, and feeling the need to say something, Gibbs choked out, "Tony; you might as well call him Tony. Looks like you've already gotten to know him real well."

"Okay, Tony then. I should also warn you that we have him covered in cooling blankets. His temperature spiked a while ago and we are trying to bring it down as quickly as possible. It's too early for that to be signs of an infection so we are watching to make sure it isn't the onset of pneumonia."

Again, Gibbs found himself unable to do more than nod. Stepping closer to Tony, he studied him well for the first time. Tony lay on the bed, pale and unnaturally still. The only color on his face was provided by the numerous bruises. The rising and falling of his chest supplied the only sign that he was alive. His arms lay limply beside his body, which was obscured by the blankets.

"I've got to talk to the nurses. Why don't you take some time and talk to him. Just because he's asleep doesn't necessarily mean that he won't sense your presence. "

Nodding, which had apparently become his only means of communication Gibbs thought bitterly, he stepped up next to the bed. The earlier jubilation he had felt when learning Tony was out of recovery was completely gone. The doctor had been very clear earlier, down in the ER, that Tony was still critically ill, but Gibbs had been so happy that he had pulled through the surgery he had disregarded the heavy warning. Now, faced with the reality, it was impossible to avoid the possibility that Tony might not make it. This was so much worse than when Tony had contracted the plague – then Tony had been conscious and able to crack the occasional inappropriate joke between the numerous coughing fits. Now, he looked like one of Ducky's patients. Reaching out a hand, he touched Tony's arm. It was so cold. He then took Tony's hand in his own, entwining his fingers with Tony's, and carefully avoiding the catheter taped to the top, he covered it with his other hand, hoping to provide some warmth to the icy hand.

Staring at Tony's sleeping face; he longed to see the sparkling, mischievous green eyes look up at him. Swallowing, he said, "What am I going to do with you DiNozzo? There's got to be a better way to get a little comp time." He paused, halfway expecting a reply. He subconsciously shook his head. 'What was he doing,' he asked himself. ' All this time waiting and thinking, and that's the best I can do-more jokes and avoidances?' Silently, he continued to look down at Tony's still form. The noise from the machines which were keeping him alive became deafening, highlighting his own silence.

"I'm not going anywhere Tony. I've got your six. Been watching it for six years, not going to stop now." That felt better. "You just need to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up," and he continued to hold his hand. He let himself drift, thinking about Tony, the way he laughed and kidded. He thought about the Tony most people never saw - the insecure and hurt Tony, who he had only glimpsed momentarily on rare occasions in his basement. He thought about the competent Tony, who anticipated Gibbs demands and kept his teammates safe. And he then thought about the lonely Tony, the Tony no one was allowed to see; the Tony who came in weekend after weekend, covering for others who had somewhere important to be because he didn't. "You're not going to be alone. I'm here and this is where I'm staying. You just need to concentrate on getting better. We're going to make it, Tony," and he again fell silent.

He didn't know how long he had been standing there. The steady beeping that mirrored Tony's heartbeat seemed to lull him and he felt himself start to relax. Suddenly he became aware of someone touching his arm. Dropping Tony's hand, he whirled around and came face to face with Nurse Karen. Bright blue eyes, filled with warmth and compassion met determined, icy blue ones. On her face she wore a half smile, an expression Gibbs recognized.

"It's time to let him rest. Go on back to the waiting room. Dr. Mallard is there, sound asleep. Why don't you try to get some sleep, too; you look exhausted. I'll bring you a blanket. I meant it when I said I would wake you up for visits," she said, her earlier gruffness replaced with gentleness.

Gibbs nodded, and absently wondered why speech had become so hard. He allowed himself to be steered back to the recliner next to Ducky. As he sat down and pushed back on the chair, he felt a soft, warm blanket being laid over him, then he closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

"Urghhh," Ziva growled, banging her hands on the steering wheel for the third time in as many minutes. They were in the company car on the freeway which ran around the city, sitting at a dead stop - going nowhere fast. Surrounding them were other cars, stopped nose to bumper, filled with commuters eager to get home. Looking around she could see people reading the paper, some honking their horns periodically at no one in particular, some fiddling with their radios, and others talking animatedly on their cell phones.

Glaring over at McGee as though this was in some way his fault, she saw him holding his phone up to his ear. Scowling and cursing silently under his breath, he snapped the phone shut, giving in to his own fit of frustration. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Still no answer from Gibbs?"

"I don't get it," McGee said. "If one of us was out of touch he'd feed us to the lions. The worst part of this is knowing that he will somehow make this our fault." Setting aside her own irritation for a moment she studied him, noticing a vein on his forehead throbbing in time with his heart beat. She knew how hard their present course of action was for him. McGee was not a natural risk taker.

"Have you tried calling Abby to see if she's talked to him?"

McGee looked over at her in relief. "You're a genius Ziva. Surely by now he's called her to give her an update on Tony. Abby should know why we can't reach him _and_ be able to tell us about Tony."

Having solved one problem, Ziva felt a bit better. "Tim, while you have her on the phone see if you can find out what is happening with Cassie's team. I do not want this traffic jelly to make it so they get there first." Noticing that McGee was so busy calling Abby that he did not even correct her English, Ziva smiled silently to herself. Although most of Ziva's mistakes with American idioms were honest, she was not above making one on purpose to lighten the mood.

"Abby, it's Tim. Listen have you . . ."

"Oh, hi there Sister Rosita - I was just thinking about you," Abby said overly loud into the phone, effectively cutting him off. "I can't talk long; I'm in the middle of hunting down some clues on the bad guys who hurt Tony."

"Abby, is Cassie there with you?" he asked, speaking softer. McGee leaned closer to Ziva, putting the phone next to his left ear so that they could both hear Abby. He could just picture Abby, holding the phone and trying to look wide eyed and innocent – well as innocent as you can look when wearing a black and purple plaid mini kilt, fire red fishnet thigh-his, four inch platform boots, a spiked dog collar, innumerable tattoos, and a skin tight black t-shirt which proclaimed her as the bride of Frankenstein.

"That's right, Sister. We can't let them get away. I've found some fingerprints on the evidence brought in to me and am running them right now. Hopefully I'll get a hit and the investigating team will be able to track the fink."

"Okay, got you Abs. Thanks for the warning," he said, wanting her to know that he had caught on. "Have you heard from Gibbs?"

"No, we don't know what's up with the bastard, although there's no excuse for this. Excuse my language Sister."

"We can't reach him on the phone and are getting worried. Are you going to be able to go to the hospital soon?" McGee asked.

"No, you have no idea how much I'd like to go bowling tonight, but I have a ton of trace I need to run before I can leave here tonight and my computers are running really slow today for some reason."

McGee and Ziva exchanged a quick smirk. "You're the best, Abs. Hope the computers don't speed up anytime soon. We're stuck in traffic right now. When you talk to Gibbs, tell him what's up."

"I'll surely try Sister. I need to get back to it right now. I've got to see what I can do to make the computer behave. We're all getting very impatient. Take care, and knock over some pins for me when you get there. Bye now," and with that Abby hung up.

Chuckling quietly, McGee shut his phone. "Well, looks like Abby is buying us some time. Maybe I won't have to worry about what Gibbs is going to do to us. I think she will kill him and bury the body when she sees him."

"Yes, I am now feeling better," and even as she said that the car in front of her started to move slowly. "Thank goodness our exit is the next one," she said as the car started to crawl forward. Looking over at McGee briefly, and then fixing her eyes straight in front of her, she asked, "Have you thought about what we are going to do when we get there, Tim?"

McGee rolled his head, trying to release the tension creeping back in and then exhaled audibly. He looked over at her and said, "I can't stop thinking about it Ziva. Part of me wants to locate this guy, find out if he did this, and then beat the crap out of him until he looks worse than Tony did. Another part says we should just watch him and make sure he doesn't get away before Cassie's team catches up to him, and the last bit of me just wants to make sure you don't shove a knife in his heart before we find out what's going on."

"Maybe once I would have done that, but not anymore," Ziva said, trying to mask the hurt she felt. "It would not be enough to make him suffer. We need to know why he hurt Tony and if he acted alone." Then, turning her attention back to the road, she swung the car sharply to the right. Using the side of the road to shoot past the slow moving vehicles, ignoring the glares and middle fingers aimed at her from the cars to her left, she headed rapidly down the off ramp which led to the road they needed.

"First I think we must assess the situation. We need to see if he is there, and if so, if he is alone. I do not think we will truly know what to do until we get there. Will you be able to trust me, McGee?" she asked, careful not to look at him.

"I trust you with my life, Ziva," McGee said earnestly.

"Just not with the life of a suspect?" she could not stop herself from asking.

"I'm sorry Ziva. I didn't really mean that; I was just venting."

They were silent for a bit, looking out the window at the seedy neighborhood they were entering. Run down houses, impoverished storefronts and apartment buildings surrounded the street. The mishmash of music pouring out of various cars parked idly on the side competed with the sounds of a train rattling on the metro tracks and cars rushing down the street. Young people hung out the windows and sat on the hoods of the parked cars. Small groups of children congregated on the sidewalk, some playing hopscotch or jump rope, others laughing and tussling with each other. Rolling down the window, McGee could smell the cloying scent of greasy food wafting out of the open windows of the apartment buildings. Looking up ahead, he said, "There's Jefferson Street. Turn left there. His apartment building should be about two blocks down."

Ziva turned and they began to scan the street. People were ambling down the sidewalk and sitting on the stoops of the apartments. Seeing a parking spot half a block down from Lynch's building, Ziva pulled the car to the curb as McGee rolled up his window. They looked at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. They knew that the time to make a decision had arrived.

"If you do not want . . ." Ziva started at the same time McGee said, "Well, let's go . . ."

They both stopped, taking time to appreciate the irony of what had just happened.

"Ladies first," he said with a small smile.

"Why don't we go check out the apartment? We can leave our jackets here and no one will know we are NCIS. We do not even know if he still lives there. Once we have that answer we can determine what to do. If it looks as if he is settled in perhaps it would be better to wait for backup to arrive. After all, there is only two of us," she said.

Trying to hide his relief, McGee nodded his agreement.

"Take off your suit jacket, remove your tie, roll up your sleeves and pull your shirt out of your pants, Tim. We want to fit in a much as possible."

Doing as she said, Tim watched as she pulled her dark, curly hair out of its tight ponytail holder and shook it loose. She then removed the dark sweater she had been wearing to reveal a tight, burgundy ribbed athletic t-shirt, which she tucked into the waist of her tan cargo pants. She then tied the sweater around her waist, effectively hiding the gun belt and holster at her hip. Once done, she looked at McGee, reached over and mussed his hair slightly. "Now you look a bit like Tony," she said with a sad smile.

"Are you ready?" she asked as she opened the car door.

Not answering, Tim merely opened the door and followed her out.

As they headed slowly up the sidewalk, Ziva wrapped her arm around Tim's waist and cuddled into him. Whispering in his ear she said, "Put your arm around me McGee. I won't bite you. Not now at least. We need to attract as little attention as possible and people look away from lovers."

Pulling her close, Tim rested his chin on the top of her head, and let his eyes scan the street as they approached Lynch's building. When they got to it, they climbed the stairs to the lobby entrance. Reaching out and finding the door unlocked, Tim paused for a moment. Meeting Ziva's eyes he reached his final decision. He gave the door a pull and together they entered the lobby, the door slamming shut behind them.

Back at the hospital, Gibbs slept on, unaware of the danger his agents might well be encountering. Feeling pressure on his shoulder he awoke with a start, slamming the chair into an upright position. The room was dim; the lights had been lowered while he slept, and his legs were entrapped by a tan waffle weave cotton blanket. Beside him he could hear soft snores emanating from Ducky. As he sat forward he could feel a pillow slide down the chair behind him, coming to rest at the small of his back. Looking up he saw Nurse Karen looking down at him with an amused expression on her face. The twinkle in her blue eyes, coupled with the pale blonde curls that framed her face made her look a bit like an illustration of a pixie in a children's story book.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," she said in her clear alto voice. "It's been an hour and you may go see Agent DiNozzo again. He's been sleeping peacefully, just like you."

Scrubbing his hand over his eyes as he disentangled himself and stood, he asked, "Any change?"

"Not much. There's a bit more congestion in his lungs. Dr. Anderson consulted with Dr. Pitt Apparently Agent DiNozzo must be a pet project of his, because he's coming over here when he finishes his rounds at Bethesda. Guess Agent DiNozzo must be more charming than you," but the teasing smile she gave him took away any sting from her words.

Prepared now for the shock to the senses the ICU created, Gibbs walked with her to Tony's room. Giving him another little pat on the shoulder she said, "I'll come get you when the time's up," and left him alone with Tony.

He walked over to the bed and reached over and again took Tony's hand. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he thought it felt a little warmer. He resolved to try talking to Tony in a natural manner. If it was true that a patient could hear you then he wanted to sound like his normal self, thinking that would reassure Tony. "Hey DiNozzo, She Who Must Be Obeyed, Nurse Karen to some, says your chest is sounding a little clogged. Don't go getting greedy; I think you've got enough things wrong with you right now. You don't need to add any more to the list. Guess who's coming to visit you - Brad Pitt, the doctor not the actor. So there won't be any Angelina Jolie offered up as eye candy. Guess he can't stand having you in a hospital and being in on it. Nurse Karen accused you of being his pet project." He didn't expect a response and wasn't surprised when his only answer was the hiss of the ventilator.

"Wish I knew if you could hear me, DiNozzo." He wanted some sign that Tony was still in that lifeless body, just something to pin his hopes to. He looked around the room at all the machinery, knowing that it indicated that Tony was alive. He just couldn't reconcile the immobile body with the memories of his senior agent.

As if of its own volition, his left hand reached up to smooth the hair off the side of Tony's forehead. He was surprised by how soft it was. He let his fingers cord through it, liking the way the locks felt as they slid across his fingers. He was so startled when Tony turned his head into the touch that he drew back his hand. As if sensing the loss, Tony's head turned back to the other side and then he stilled again. Feeling like this was a gift; the proof of life he had wished for, Gibbs reached his hand back out and gently let his fingers thread through Tony's hair. This time when his head once again turned into the touch, Gibbs kept on. "It's gonna be okay, Tony," he murmured softly.

That was how Karen found them a few minutes later. Standing in the door she watched the large, physically threatening, gruff man gently holding the other man's hand while softly petting his hair. Knowing she was intruding on a highly personal moment, and that Gibbs would not thank her for it, she backed out of the room silently. "Time's up," she said before entering the room, allowing Gibbs time to readjust. Walking into the room she was surprised to see that although he was no longer touching Mr. DiNozzo's hair, Gibbs' right hand was still wrapped around his hand.

Seeing Nurse Karen enter the room, Gibbs reluctantly let go of Tony's hand as he made ready to leave. "I'll be back in an hour, Tony," he said. Then nodding at her, he followed her back into the main room of the ICU.

"I need to call the office and check on things. I'll be back before the hour is up." As they walked to the waiting room he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an old black leather wallet. From it he withdrew a business card. "My cell phone number's on this. If anything changes, or the doctors need me, give me a call. I'm just stepping outside so that I can use my phone. If Dr. Mallard wakes up and is looking for me, would you tell him where I've gone?"

When they got to the door, he turned and looked at her again. Not knowing why he did it he asked, "I'm gonna get a coffee while I'm out, do you want anything?"

"God yes," she exclaimed. "Bring me back the strongest roast they've got – make sure its black."

Smiling slightly, not at all surprised by her request, he headed for the elevator.


	14. Chapter 14

_Dear Readers: Have been in a bit of a writing flurry the last couple of days. Am getting ready to go on vacation (yeah vacation!) and have felt the pressure to get part of this story down before I left. Don't know how often I will be able to update this week. Hope you stay interested through the inevitable delay._

**Chapter Fourteen:**

When the lobby door to the apartment building slammed shut, McGee felt himself jump a little. There was no going back now. They were in the building. He heard Ziva ask, "What was the apartment number again?"

"310," he answered, looking around to locate the stairs.

"Let us go up, then." Touching his arm she said, "When we get up there, follow my lead Tim. I will find out what we need to know and then we can decide what to do."

He offered up no objections. Ziva had far more field experience going undercover than he did and so he willingly followed her through the lobby and over to the sign above a door, indicating that the stairs lay beyond. When they entered the stairwell, he was overcome by the stench. Sweat, urine, smoke and alcohol had combined, forming a perverted cologne which stuck to the skin and promised not to come off even when washed. He suspected that he would be throwing away the clothes he was wearing. The dark grime on the walls obscured some of the graffiti, so that it was hard to read just who Jazzy loved or what number to call for a good time. Climbing up the stairs behind a single minded Ziva, McGee was careful not to touch the railing, not because it hung precariously by a single nail, but because the metal had a visible, unidentifiable multilayered texture coating it, even though it was clear that it had once been smooth polished steel. They could hear babies crying and televisions blaring from the apartments, the canned laughter from the sit-coms battling with the voices raised in anger from the people who dwelled within.

When they reached the third floor Ziva stopped and studied him carefully. Her face was inscrutable and he wanted to squirm. McGee felt as though he had passed a particularly difficult exam when she broke the silence and spoke. "When we get to the door, I want you to stand behind me and wrap your arms around me. Bury your head in my hair like a lover, and let me do the talking. Don't make eye contact with Lynch. Pretend you are too drunk to stand up without my support," and with that she opened the stairwell door and headed down the hall, grabbing his hand and pulling him along after her.

"Almost there Baby - 306, 307, 308, 309, 310!" she trilled loudly as they walked towards Lynch's door, her accent completely gone. "We're here," and she began to bang on the door.

"Hey Petey, it's us, open up. Come on Petey, open up and let's get the party started!" She was now pounding on the door with both hands.

The door opened a crack, and they heard a low, distrustful voice ask, "Who are _you_?"

Ziva stumbled hard against the door, pushing it open further, dragging along McGee who was wrapped around her. She looked up at the man standing there and blinked a couple of times.

"Whoa, who are _you_?" she giggled in an empty headed way McGee did not think was possible for her. "Where's Petey? We're finally here and we're ready to play!"

While this was going on McGee snuck a peak. Standing before them was John David Lynch, staring at Ziva with a kind of wild expression. Even though McGee had practically memorized his rap sheet he wasn't prepared for the reality of the man. Lynch had dirty blonde hair, a year overdue for a cut. He hadn't shaved in several days and his small brown eyes were bloodshot. McGee couldn't tell if that was from lack of sleep or drugs. The dirty white t-shirt he wore over a pair of low slung jeans pulled dangerously across his chest. His sheet had said he was 6'4'' and 250 pounds, but McGee had not been prepared to find that all of his weight was housed in pure muscle. Clearly Lynch had taken advantage of the jail's weight room.

"Ain't no Petey here," he rumbled, reaching to close the door.

"You can't lie to me. I know he lives here. At the bar he _said_ 4545 Jefferson, 'partment 310," Ziva slurred triumphantly and followed it with a genteel burp, giggling again at the sound she had made and covering her mouth with an exaggerated expression of horror.

"Lady, this is 4543 Jefferson. You got the wrong building!"

"Really? Oops," she giggled. "Oh well, no use crying over spilled beer, as they say." She stopped and looked him up and down a couple of times. "So hey, do you want to party big boy?" she asked, reaching her arms up and back, wrapping them around McGee's head and pulling it down further into her hair, all the while stretching her torso invitingly. "Me and Timmy could show you a good time."

Lynch snorted and then said, "Get lost slut," shoving them back and slamming the door.

"Same to you, you fucker!" she screamed at the closed door. "Come on Baby. Let's go find the right building," she huffed loudly and headed back to the stairs, muttering drunkenly the whole way.

Once the door to the stairwell had closed she said, "You can let me go now Tim. "And looked amused when he dropped his hands as if he had been burned, murmuring an apology to her at the same time. "It is of no matter." Pushing her hair back from her face, she said, "Much as I do not wish it so, I think we need to wait for Cassie's team. We lost our chance to get in without a physical confrontation and he is big enough to be dangerous, particularly if desperate."She sounded both regretful and angry.

"Let's go back to the car," McGee said as they went down the stairs. "We can see the apartment from there and can watch it as we wait for Cassie." When they got to the street they sped to the car, all attempts at subterfuge over.

Once in the car, Ziva pulled her hair back into a pony tail and pulled on her sweater as McGee called Abby. "Abby stop delaying Cassie. We're going to need her help with Lynch," he said the minute she answered.

"That's real good Timmy, because she's already left for his apartment. I couldn't keep holding her off. I was afraid she was getting suspicious," Abby said, as she stood in her lab, chugging on a giant caf-pow which she put down so that she could wrap an arm protectively around her own waist.

"You did great Abs," sensing Abby's need for comfort.

"Timmy, why hasn't Gibbs called in? I'm really worried about Tony."

"Abby, calm down. If there was real bad news he would have let us know," McGee said, trying to sound surer than he felt. "You know how Gibbs gets. He's probably treating Tony's surgery like a case he can solve, ignoring everything else while he micro-manages the doctors. Who knows, he may have even broken his phone. It _is_ his _third one_ this month."

"I wish I could go to the hospital," Abby said, now wrapping her pigtail around her index finger and chewing on her bottom lip, "but Cassie did bring in a bunch of stuff to run trace on. I'll be here running tests for at least two more hours."

Just then, Ziva exclaimed, "Here comes Lynch! He must have gotten spooked. We need to follow him. Get Abby to send you Cassie's cell number."

"Abby, listen, I gotta go, but I need you to send me Cassie's cell number right now. Lynch is leaving and we need to stick with him. Talk to you later," and he hung up, watching Lynch whom was now dressed in jeans, a dark blue ball cap and an old brown leather bomber jacket. He headed out of the building, looking around furtively in all directions. Ziva and McGee ducked down, pecked over the dashboard of the car, and watched him climb into an old Toyota pickup which was parked down the block.

Ziva had already started up the engine, and after letting Lynch's truck get part of the way down the block, she swung the car out into the traffic, heading in the direction he had taken. Her face was closed down and unreadable, a contradiction to the excited and slightly anxious voice she had used when ordering McGee about. She knew she couldn't let him get too far ahead. It was dark now, and visibility would be an issue. Lynch circled around the block, and headed towards the freeway. When they got to the freeway entrance he swung onto the southbound ramp and Ziva was careful to stay several cars behind him.

McGee's phone chimed, signaling an incoming text. "Got the number," he said, after he had opened the message.

"We need to call her, Tim. We need more than one car on him so he doesn't make us."

"On it Ziva," and he punched in a number and listening as the phone rang in his ear. When it was answered he swallowed hard and then said, "Cassie, this is Tim McGee. Ziva and I are on the freeway by the Jackson Avenue exit, headed south and we're following John David Lynch."

He paused, clearly listening to her reply. Flinching a little he said, "It doesn't matter why right now. We need back up." He squinted at the truck they were following. "He's in a dirty white Toyota Tacoma, license 89B6830. We need more cars or he's going to pick up on the tail," again he paused, allowing her time to speak. "Yes, we're _sure_ he's dirty. He's _running_." There were long pauses while Cassie spoke. ". . . yeah . . . yeah . . . we'll explain when we see you . . . okay . . . okay . . . yes, m'am." And he hung up.

He looked over at Ziva, who was totally focused on their quarry. "She's royally pissed. We'd better catch this bastard or we can kiss our jobs goodbye. Cassie says they're about six miles south of us, headed north. They're going to turn around and pick him up so that we can fall back. They've got an SUV and a car so they'll spread out. Between the three vehicles he should have no idea we are on to him."

The stealthed chase continued for close to an hour. All three cars took turns heading the surveillance; the lead car allowing the other vehicles to fall back, repositioning themselves to intercept the truck several miles further down the highway. Finally, at a point during which Ziva and McGee were the lead car, Lynch took the Bethesda exit. As Ziva slowed the car down her hands lessened their grip on the wheel. She rotated her shoulders, trying to relax them. They had tightened into hard knots over the last hour.

"I wonder what he's doing near Bethesda?" McGee asked. He, too, was showing the strain. His shirt was damp from sweat and his eyes were a little intense and unblinking.

"Drek!" said Ziva, as Lynch pulled into a parking spot. "Get down McGee," pushing him down with her hand. As she drove by she turned her head away from his car. After passing him she watched out of her rear view mirror, seeing him climb out of the truck and head into the bar he had parked by. She turned at the corner, planning to go around the block and find a place to park. McGee had his phone out and was telling Cassie what had happened and supplying her with a detailed description of what Lynch had on.

"Cassie says to park within sight of the truck and sit tight. She knows he's seen us before so she doesn't want us anywhere near him," he said as he hung up. "With any luck, and I'd say we're due some about now, he's meeting with an accomplice," McGee was nearly panting. The adrenaline rush caused by the situation getting the better of him. He looked at his partner and wondered how Ziva could seem so collected. Moments of silence passed. Just as he was starting to calm down his cell phone rang. He looked at the display, and felt his heart rate soar again to dangerous new levels. The display read 'Gibbs'.

Moments before Gibbs had reached the front doors of the hospital. He was shocked by the change confronting him; it was pitch dark outside. Shaking his head to clear it, he realized the ICU was like an alternate universe. Important things- life changing things happened there, but the rest of the world was filled with people who would neither know nor care, and the people stuck in this alternate reality lost track of the natural flow of time-living in a kind of suspended animation. Walking out into the night he let a cool, fresh breeze cleanse him as it washed over him. Gibbs loved the city at night. It became more tranquil, the ambient glow from the twinkling city lights reminding him of paintings of long ago Christmases. The strident voices of the daytime mellowed, forming a soft chorus which seemed to celebrate the joy in life. For a just a second Gibbs wanted to remain frozen in the moment, free from the pressures of the job and free from the worry and emotions that confronted him in the ICU. What would that be like-never having a care? 'Empty' was the response he heard. A life with out responsibility, concern and emotion would be empty. "Christ' he said to himself silently. 'I'm starting to sound like Ducky! Much more and I could go on the Oprah Show.'

Shaking off the introspective thoughts that made him uneasy, he pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. As it buzzed back to life he hoped that McGee had something to report. When the phone was fully connected he looked down at the screen as he got ready to punch in McGee's number. His hand froze above the key pad. Nineteen missed calls! He had nineteen missed calls! He stared at the phone in his hand. It was now asking him if he wanted it to display all. 'Damn it, of course he did,' but unfortunately he had no idea how to make it do that. He knew that some would be from Abby. He had been short with her earlier but that wouldn't have stopped her from calling to ask about Tony. She was a little like the weeble wobble dolls Kelly used to play with, the ones with the rounded bottoms. If you tipped her over Abby always rolled back up. It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

His bigger fear was that a lot of the calls could have been from McGee. He was a good agent, as was Ziva, but neither was really ready to head a case. If McGee had come up with a lead he would have sought out Gibbs' help. Well, he couldn't retrieve his missed calls but he knew how to call out, and punching the number four, he waited for McGee to answer.

He didn't even have to identify himself. He was greeted with a manic, "Gibbs, thank god you called!" He felt his stomach sinking; he knew who the calls had been from.

For the second time that day he found himself saying, "Report McGee."

And he did-for the next ten minutes- at break neck speed.

When McGee finally finished recounting the events of the day, events which seemed to have gotten more out of control with each step he and Ziva had taken, Gibbs' head was pounding. He knew he was partially responsible for this. He also knew he would have to make a huge scene and call in favors to pull them out of the hot water they were standing neck deep in. "So let me get this straight. You and Ziva are now parked on the street watching the bar and Cassie is minutes behind you?"

"Yes Boss. What do you want us to do? Do you want us to go in?"

"No! What I _want_ you to do is to follow Cassie's orders. Do not loose Lynch! Watch the bar, make _sure_ he doesn't leave."

"When are you going to get here Boss?" McGee asked.

Then Gibbs surprised even himself when he said, "I'm not McGee."

"Boss?" Tim stuttered, deeply confused.

"Tony's not doing so good McGee. I can't leave the hospital. I want you and Ziva to stay there and help catch the son of a bitch who did this. Then, I want you to help with the interrogation. And then, I want you to explain to me why this happened."

"Um sure, Boss. Do you want me to call you as soon as we know something?"

"You can't McGee. The phone has to be turned off in the hospital. Tony's up in ICU. He pulled through a couple of surgeries but its still touch and go. I'll go outside and call you every couple of hours. Call Abby and update her. Tell her he can't have visitors, so she should hold off on coming to the hospital. Tell her I'll call her soon. Oh, and Tim, make sure you watch both Ziva's and your own six," and with that he disconnected.

Then he crossed the now deserted street, and got two coffees to go.

Minutes later, standing outside the doors of the hospital once more, holding the coffee, he drew himself up and willingly crossed back into his alternate universe.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen:**

From the nurses' station Karen saw Gibbs arrive back in ICU carrying two cups of coffee. She met him at the door to the waiting room, reaching out her hand gratefully. "You're a rock star!" she exclaimed, as she took a sip and gave an appreciative sigh. Gibbs looked at her quizzically, having never heard that expression before. Seeing the confusion on his face, and accurately guessing what had put it there, she laughed and said, "You need to get out more."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Gibbs cautioned her. He liked her; she was feisty and quick. Talking with her pulled him out of his funk and made him feel better.

"If it looks like a duck, and walks like a duck" she said, raising her eyebrow.

"Believe nothing of what you hear and only half of what you see," Gibbs quoted, enjoying the game they had fallen into.

Karen scrunched her face up as she thought, "A leopard can't change its spots!" she crowed triumphantly, daring him to best her.

Of course Gibbs never backed down from a challenge. Looking at him, she could tell he was running her last saying back through his head. Then he smiled, which had been her objective all along, and said, "After dark all cats are leopards."

With that, Karen held up both hands to signal her surrender. "I need to get back to it. Thanks for the coffee," she said, and then looked at her watch. As she turned to leave, he heard her say, "You can see him in twenty minutes."

When he walked into the waiting room he saw that Ducky was awake and was busy telling a story to a family member of some other patient. The man Ducky was talking to had a glazed expression on his face, and was clearly only half heartedly listening. Taking mercy on him, Gibbs said, "Duck, could I speak with you for a moment," and he inclined his head, indicating that they should move to the chairs across the room.

"Of course, Jethro," and turning back to the man he said, "Please excuse me, duty calls. I do hope your grandfather will be alright. Perhaps we will have the opportunity to speak again."

Ducky stood and followed Gibbs. "I'm glad to see you looking better, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded to acknowledge Ducky's statement. Looking at him, he realized that Ducky was showing every one of his years. "You should go home Duck. There's no reason for us both to spend the night here and I'm not leaving." The last bit was said with a hint of defiance.

"I never dreamed you would. I hate to leave you alone, Jethro. Now that Mother's not living at the home I don't need to hurry off."

"It's getting late Ducky. Tony isn't likely to wake up tonight and he's being well taken care of. Go home and get some sleep in your own bed. There's no reason for us both to spend the night in recliners." Sensing that Ducky was about to offer up more protest, he added, "If you wanted to do me a favor you could swing by my house in the morning and pick up some clean clothes and some toiletries," knowing this would provide Ducky with a much needed mission.

"As you wish. I must admit my old bones will thank you in the morning. Don't hesitate to call me if there is any change. I can be back here in twenty minutes." Looking at Gibbs, as he stood, he said, "Do try to get more sleep Jethro. I know sleeping the night away in fifty minute increments isn't ideal, but neither is operating with no rest."

"Will do Duck. Don't worry, I don't think Nurse Karen will let me get too out of hand."

Grinning widely, Ducky said, "You might be right about that. I think you may have met your match there; she reminds me of you, Jethro – although a much more pleasant version to look at, of course," and with that, he turned to leave.

Easing down into a chair, Gibbs glanced at his watch. 9:45; this was turning out to be one of the longest days of his life. Casting his eyes around the room he studied the other people waiting to see loved ones. Their faces all wore similar expressions, a mix between fear and hope. Gibbs didn't kid himself; he knew he looked the same way. Fifteen more minutes before they would be allowed in to the ICU. He wished he could find something to do to distract himself. He didn't want to allow himself to fall back into the retrospection he had been indulging in. It made him uncomfortable and he couldn't act on any of the revelations he had discovered now anyway.

As a way of diverting his wayward thoughts, he forced himself to think about the investigation. They knew that Tony had followed up on a lead Friday night. He made a mental note to ask McGee if they had found out anything more about how Tony caught the lead. Somehow Tony managed to get himself captured, assumedly by Lynch, as it was his fingerprints found on the bat and chair. They were all well aware of what happened to Tony after that. He pulled his straying mind back to his present analysis; it would do no good to dwell on Tony's injuries. They had located Tony because of an address scribbled on a piece of paper found in the backpack Tony had left in his car. He thought about how Ziva and McGee had surreptitiously gotten the prints to Abby and, after having them identified, had decided to chase down Lynch on their own. What had they intended to do once they found him, he wondered, shaking his head in disbelief. Now they were parked outside a bar, waiting for Cassie's team to come and take Lynch in for questioning. He hoped Cassie got the answers they needed. Why had Tony gone to the warehouse? What case did it relate to? Who was Lynch, and why had he taken Tony? What made him beat Tony to within an inch of his life? There were too many unanswered questions. He knew that Cassie was good, and that McGee and Ziva were very motivated, but the need to run the investigation was overwhelming. Gibbs was not good at relinquishing control; he would need to make sure that he got regular updates from Cassie. If she didn't get the answers they needed, he would have a little private chat with Lynch, he promised himself. With that resolved he was feeling a little better when a nurse he had not seen before stuck her head in and said that they could come into the ICU.

He had just stepped in to Tony's room when Karen came in. "Gibbs, Dr. Pitt just called. He's had a patient take a bad turn and needs to stay at Bethesda longer. He said, and I quote, 'Since my night is shot to hell anyway, I'll probably stop by when I'm done here. Tell Gibbs to behave himself.' I wonder why he felt that was necessary?" she asked sardonically.

Gibbs smirked at her, but said nothing. Then he remembered where he was and his eyes locked on to Tony.

"Remember what you said earlier Gibbs. Believe nothing that you hear, and only half of what you see," and giving him a reassuring pat, she went back to her duties.

Tony seemed to be a bit restless. His head was moving from side to side, and the cooling blankets, which had been gone for his last visit, were back. There was a soft sheen to his face, and Gibbs knew that the fever was still a problem. Gibbs reached over to the table sitting next to the ventilator, and lifted up a cloth which sat next to a bowl of water. After dipping the cloth in the water and squeezing out the excess, he gently bathed Tony's face with it. "Hey Tony, it's me, Gibbs. You're doing great Tony. You just need to keep fighting. You'll be out of here before you know it." His task completed, he put the cloth back on the table and reached out to touch Tony's face. It felt hot to the touch. He ran his hand down Tony's cheek, feeling soft skin and the faint scrape of beard. Studying Tony's face he was troubled to see small beads of sweat already reforming on his forehead. Using his hand, he brushed them away. "When you feel better I'll tell you about Ziva and McGee's stab at undercover work. I'm not sure McGee is fully recovered." He paused, thinking about what to say. "Abby wants to come see you, but I told her to hold off. I'm not sure you're up to a visit from her yet. You need to be able to defend yourself. She's likely to tackle you when she sees you." As he spoke, his other hand had gently encircled on of Tony's. "Sent Ducky home for the night. He was done in. I expect he'll be back first thing in the morning. Everyone's pulling for you Tony. Don't let them down, it'd piss me off DiNozzo," and he gently caressed Tony's face, to take the sting from his words. Just like last time, Tony turned his face into the touch, resting his cheek in Gibbs' hand. "Yeah, I feel the same way, Tony," he whispered.

Before he knew it, a nurse came in to tell him that he needed to let Tony rest again. After murmuring his good byes and promises to be back soon, Gibbs returned to the waiting room. As he sat, preparing to wait for another very long hour, he thought back on what Karen had said. 'Believe nothing that you hear, and only half of what you see.' She had no idea how well that saying applied to Tony. He knew she had meant that as a reassurance – a reminder that although Tony's injuries were terrible, and that he looked weak he was silently fighting to get better. But thinking about the saying he realized it applied to so much more, where Tony was concerned. As a matter of fact, it summed up the public face of Tony. Most of what Tony said was bunk, half truths and feints, designed to keep people from digging too deeply. The bright, goofy smile Tony wore hid a sharp, analytical mind, and his carefree image prevented people from seeing that he could be hurt deeply. Hell, he thought, he had seen Tony on rare occasions with his mask ripped away, and yet he was lulled into accepting the person Tony offered to the world. Gibbs knew how hard it was to maintain a façade. He had been doing it for years. Never letting people know about Shannon and Kelly; never talking about the disintegration of his three, ill-advised subsequent marriages; never letting anyone too close, for fear they discover he wasn't bullet proof. For the first time in years, he wanted to change that. He wanted to let Tony in, to drop his guard. He wanted Tony to feel comfortable enough with him to do the same. He didn't want to be like Ducky, older and alone – living in a house filled with dogs, with no one to relax with at the end of a long day. He would make that happen, he promised himself. He just needed Tony to keep on fighting.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen:**

Tony was dreaming. Gibbs was standing next to him and talking softly. Then Gibbs was replaced by someone Tony couldn't see, someone who was cursing, shouting and hurting him. The mysterious assailant hammered Tony with something like a bat. He was tied to a chair and could not move. In his dream Tony tried to remain silent, but gave way to the pain and finally screamed. Gibbs appeared again, pulled a gun from his side, and fired. When the echo of the gun subsided the pain had evaporated. And then the dream stopped.

As Tony woke he automatically flinched, anticipating the next blow. As he became more awake he realized he wasn't in the chair anymore. His head ached and he was having trouble thinking clearly. He remembered hearing Gibbs' voice and then a lot of jostling. He tried to put that memory in context. He had a vague memory of a surgery. That thought puzzled him, and he let it go. He tried opening his eyes, and was surprised when fuzzy images actually appeared. After having spent what seemed like an eternity blindfolded, vision was a novelty. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and things became clearer. He could see innumerable intravenous bags hanging from multiple poles. Okay, he was clearly in a hospital he told himself. Even as he had that thought, he realized a breathing tube had been inserted through his mouth and he pushed down the fear that knowledge caused. He could hear the hissing of the ventilator and several different beeping sounds. Turning his head to the left, he saw what looked like a wall of machinery, information being displayed in reds and greens on display panels, and turning to the right he saw a mirror image of the other side. He tried to lift his head to see more, but discovered that he did not have the strength. What had started out as unease when he first understood where he was began to bloom into full blown panic. Suddenly an alarm sounded shrilly. It was coming from one of the machines.

Before he had time to contemplate what that meant, he heard someone say, "So, you're awake. That's good. Everything is going to be fine. You need to calm down now. Your pulse rate soared through the roof; that's why the alarm is sounding."

Tony looked over and saw a small, blonde haired woman fiddling with one of the machines. After the alarm stopped, she turned and looked at him, a smile on her face. She stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his arm, and said, "Hi, I'm Karen Olson. I hope you don't mind if I call you Tony. You're at Georgetown Medical, and I'm the head nurse on this floor. I'm glad you're awake and I get to meet you before I go off shift." She was in her early forties and her face was open and friendly; there was a sparkle to her blue eyes. She wore bright pink scrubs striped in royal blue and a fuzzy pale blue sweater. The stripes seemed to wiggle and Tony blinked to try and clear his vision. Tony worked hard to follow what she was saying but he was having a hard time thinking clearly. "This has not been your best day. You've had surgery to repair some injuries you sustained. We can talk about the details when you're feeling better. For now, what you need to know is that you are going to be fine. You just need to conserve your strength and concentrate on getting better. So that means no more panic attacks, mister," she said teasingly.

Tony wanted her to tell him more, but he couldn't think of a way to let her know that. Frustration was quickly replacing fear. He wanted to do something, but didn't know what. He felt heavy, weighted down. His eyes started to close as he felt sleep claiming him. He jerked them back open, wanting to prolong the visit. Memories of how he felt when he had been held captive rushed back. He remembered how the loneliness had been almost as bad as the pain; how in a twisted way he had wanted his tormentor to return, just so that he wasn't alone. Nurse Karen must have seen something in his eyes, for she said, "Go back to sleep. It's okay. You're safe now." She said more but Tony was beginning to have difficulties focusing on her. The urge to sleep was overpowering him. Just before he fell completely asleep he heard her say, "Maybe Gibbs will be here next time you wake up." Even though the ventilator hid most of his mouth, Karen could see a small smile form as he drifted back to sleep.

Karen looked over at the monitors and was pleased to see that Tony's heart rate had slowed back down. She checked on his temperature and frowned because the display said 103.5. They had to get it down if he was going to get better. She knew that she would need to update Gibbs. Looking at her watch she sighed, it was eleven o'clock. She headed to the visitor's lounge, not surprised to see him standing by the door, waiting.

"I need to talk to you before you go in to see him," she said. At her words Gibbs could feel his chest tighten. "Tony's temperature is not going down as quickly as we would like. I'm sure you've noticed the cooling blankets. We're also administering medication. We'll be watching this closely, as we don't want it to put any additional strain on his heart as it tries to heal from the surgery. On the plus side, he woke up briefly. He's undoubtedly disoriented and uncomfortable. When he first woke up his pulse rate rose to dangerous levels, but it settled down rapidly. I'm not sure how well he followed what I said to him. The fever and the medicine both hamper lucidity and being intubated will make him agitated. We need to keep him as calm as possible. Don't go into much detail about his injuries. We don't want to scare him. I assured him he was going to be fine. We need to keep giving him positive reinforcement." She paused, giving herself time to gage Gibbs' response to the news. When she couldn't get a read on him she continued. "I go off duty at midnight. Maria Hernandez will be taking over for me. I'll brief her on everything before I go. If Dr. Pitt gets here tonight I'll make sure she has him speak to you. Go easy on her, she's a nice lady. The doctor monitoring the floor tonight is Dr. Trendle. If things change and you have questions just ask to speak to him. I'll be back at noon tomorrow. Hopefully by then Tony will be doing better. And Gibbs, you take care of yourself. Make sure you get some rest. You won't do him any good if you run yourself into the ground."

"Thanks Karen. I appreciate all you've done. I'll be a good boy; don't worry."

"Well, don't just stand here. Go on in and see him. Good night, Gibbs, I'll see you in the morning," she said.

This time when Gibbs got to Tony's room there was no hesitation at the door. He was getting used to seeing Tony like this, he thought disgustedly as he walked quickly over to the bed. He immediately clasped Tony's hand and softly spoke, "Tony, its Gibbs. I'm back for my hourly visit. Heard you were awake for a little bit. That's good Tony. That's real good," and he fell silent, pleasantly surprised when Tony's eyes slit open.

"Hey," Gibbs said quietly. "It's good to see your eyes." Gibbs gave Tony's hand a little squeeze. "Glad you could drag yourself away from your dreams for a few moments. "

Tony's eyes opened a little wider as he tried to get them to focus. He could see someone standing by him, and he heard Gibbs' voice. Even in his drug induced haze he knew that this wasn't a dream. Gibbs was really there.

". . . said you're gonna be better before you know it. You just have to do what the doctors tell you." Tony realized he had missed some of what Gibbs was saying. The details of Gibbs' face sharpened and Tony felt an instinctual need to respond. He tried to speak, and was thwarted by the tube in his mouth. Without giving it any clear thought, he attempted to reach up, intending to remove the obstruction. His hand was prevented from moving by some unknown pressure. Irrationally he became afraid – fearing that he was once again bound. He glanced down. Instead of ropes, he saw Gibbs' hand resting over his own.

". . . be proud of McGee and Ziva." Tony told himself to get it together. Tony sought out Gibbs eyes, desperate to communicate in some fashion. Gibbs locked eyes with him and he gave Tony a half smile. Tony concentrated on his hand encased by Gibbs'. He managed to rotate it, until their hands lay palm to palm. Using his last reserve of strength, Tony wrapped his fingers around Gibbs' hand and softly squeezed. Then, exhausted, he closed his eyes and floated back towards sleep.

"Aw hell DiNozzo. You're scaring the shit out of me," Gibbs blurted, so overcome with relief knowing Tony was with it enough to acknowledge his presence with a squeeze of the hand that he had forgot Karen's warning. He winced and then gave himself an imaginary head slap, thinking about how that sounded. "You gotta stop doing this. I can't take it. Gonna have a heart attack. I'm not as young as I used to be," he said, purposely making his voice teasing and light, trying to dilute the angst in his first exclamation. As he spoke he watched Tony's eyes cloud over and then close.

Before he knew it, ten minutes was up and he was being sent back to what he now viewed as purgatory. There was nothing to do in the waiting room but sit and worry. Gibbs hated not having something to do; that was one reason he had a partially built boat in his basement. He picked up a magazine that was on the chair next to his. Thumbing through its pages, he found nothing that interested him. He didn't care about what movie stars had misbehaved that week, who had lost the most weight, or how some dog had saved an entire family's life.

He had just tossed the magazine back, and was wondering if it was too soon to call McGee for an update, when he heard, "We've got to stop meeting like this Gibbs." Gibbs looked up and there stood Dr. Pitt, looking a little worse for wear, dressed in wrinkled and stained green scrubs.

"Brad," he acknowledged, standing and holding out his hand.

"Do I even want to know what happened this time?" Dr. Pitt asked, shaking his head a little as he shook Gibbs' hand. "A Dr. Anderson called, saying Tony had to have surgery and was all freaked out about the Y. pestis and the possibility of pneumonia. He called back a few hours later and said Tony was running a fever. I didn't like the sound of that and promised to come have a look. Glad I've got privileges here. I haven't been in to see him yet. Figured you'd be here and could give me the lay of the land."

"Tony got abducted and held for three days. The bastard beat the hell out of him. Tony had a tear in his aorta that they repaired surgically, a broken leg that needed operating on, bruises to other organs, and who knows what else. His heart stopped twice and they're talking about putting him in a coma. He's running one hell of a fever and is on a ventilator. That's the lay of the land," Gibbs snapped bitterly.

Pitt blinked a couple of times, digesting the information. "Well, no one can say Tony does things in halves," he exhaled. "Guess I'd better go see what's up. I'll come back out and talk to you as soon as I'm done."

"Thank," Gibbs said and settled back down to wait as the time stretched out.

Gibbs was up and pacing. Time seemed to drag by for Gibbs and he began to get impatient. It seemed that Dr. Pitt had been in with Tony for a long time. How long does it take to read a chart and look at some machines he wondered?

"Gibbs, lets talk," Pitt said as he came back into the lounge. He headed for a chair and sank down into it with a sigh of pleasure. Looking over at Gibbs' impatient face he said, "You appreciate straight talk, so I'm not going to pull any punches. Tony's oxygen levels aren't good. That combined with the fever, points towards pneumonia. Post operative pneumonia is not uncommon, although usually it takes longer to show up. I'm wondering if Tony was already developing it before he even got to the hospital."

"He was on a cement floor in an abandoned warehouse when we found him. It was cold and damp," Gibbs offered, a scowl on his face. Pitt was glad he wasn't the person who had done this to Tony.

"Well, that could certainly have done it. I've asked the attending to order a chest x-ray, which will probably confirm what I already know. I looked at the antibiotics they've been giving him and made a couple of strong suggestions. These are ones that Tony responds to more quickly. I let them know that I'll be taking care of his pulmonary needs; I think they were relieved. I need to talk to the cardiologist in the morning. I want to know more about the tear and its repair. Cardio problems often impact breathing. I don't like the fact that he went into arrest. The rest of the injuries are painful, but not life threatening. I don't want them to put him into a medical coma. Although they have him heavily sedated, he does wake up occasionally. I'd like to continue being able to communicate with him. It'll give us a better sense of what's going on with him because I don't think Tony is going to feel up to concealing how he really feels."

"Appreciate you signing on, Brad," Gibbs said. "I feel better knowing that you're watching his back."

"I'm going home to catch a couple of hours of sleep. Just want to check on the x-ray, but I don't expect it to contain any surprises. I'll talk to all his doctors in the morning and get back over here when I can. I'll call you when I know anything. I've still got your number saved from last time." Dr. Pitt pushed himself painfully back onto his feet and with a small wave, headed out the door.

Gibbs watched him leave. 'And then there was one,' flashed through his mind. Looking around the room he realized he was indeed alone. Everyone else had apparently gone home for the night. Standing, he walked over to the television positioned in one corner, took the controller, and clicked through the channels, looking for something to distract him for a while. Finally settling on a baseball game, he sat and prepared to wait.

The night continued like that. Brief visits with Tony, Gibbs watching over him while he slept; followed by long hours of waiting. Gibbs talked to McGee once, to learn that Cassie's team had caught Lynch. They had taken him into custody, along with the naval officer he had been with. Gibbs' frustration level did not improve when McGee informed him that Cassie had decided to let them cool their heels in holding rooms for the night and that she didn't intend to question them until she and the team had gotten some sleep. Gibbs wasn't sleeping. Tony could do nothing but sleep. He wanted answers and he wanted them yesterday!

Ducky appeared in the visitors' lounge at 7:30 a.m. He was dressed in a tweed jacket, light blue shirt and burgundy patterned bow tie. Over one arm he had slung his coat, and he was carrying an overnight bag, an extremely large thermos, and a paper bag. He eased the overnight bag to the floor and handed the paper bag to Gibbs.

"There's a breakfast sandwich in the bag. Eat it up and I'll give you this thermos filled with your usual swill to wash it down with," he said in lieu of a standard greeting. "I put a shaving kit, clean clothes and a sundry other toiletries in the overnighter."

Taking in Gibbs' appearance, bloodshot eyes encircled by dark rings, a five o'clock shadow, and rumpled clothing, he asked,"Did you get any sleep after I left?"

"Pitt came by last night and confirmed that Tony has pneumonia," Gibbs replied, avoiding answering Ducky's question, not wanting a long winded lecture. "He assigned himself to Tony's case and ordered a series of antibiotics he used on Tony before. They seem to be helping; the nurse told me that Tony's temperature had dropped a couple of degrees and that the doctor was pleased. Brad went home for the night and said he'd be back sometime today."

"Well, that seems a bit more promising. How does Tony seem to you?"

"He's been waking up a bit occasionally. I don't know how aware he is, but he seems to respond when I talk to him."

"How would he dare not," Ducky teased Gibbs. Then he gestured to the sandwich and urged Gibbs to eat. "And how is the lovely Nurse Karen? What does she have to say about Tony? Nurses usually have a better read on patients then doctors. They spend more time with them."

"She's off duty. She'll be back at noon."

"Has Abby been here, yet?" Ducky asked, and when Gibbs shook his head, he added, "Well it's just a matter of time, I would suspect."

"I'd better go to the restroom and get cleaned up then, while I can. I'm hoping Dr. Anderson will be doing rounds soon. Keep an eye out Duck."

"By all means, Jethro," Ducky answered.

Once in the bathroom, Gibbs opened the overnight bag and pulled out his soap, tooth brush and paste, and shaving equipment. In short order he was feeling more human. Changing into the clean, navy blue polo and grey sweater Ducky had packed completed his transformation. Stuffing his discarded clothing and grooming supplies back in the bag, he headed for the lounge.

Rounding the corner Gibbs knew that Abby had arrived. He could hear her before he even saw her; her voice raised in an animated discussion with Ducky on why she needed to see Tony. When he saw her he came to a complete stop. Apparently Abby had dressed to impress. She was wearing her usual knee high, buckled platform boots, but that was where the familiar stopped. Her skirt was an elaborate creation of pink and black tulle, rather like a gothic tutu. She had topped that with a dark pink satin corselet edged in black rhinestones over the top of a long sleeved, black bodysuit. Her hands were incased in black lace, fingerless gloves and her neck was draped in multiple chains of various lengths and weights sporadically trimmed with gothic crosses. Atop her head perched a shiny black top hat, draped in net and festooned with feathers. But what made the outfit truly astounding was the set of purple, red and black chiffon fairy wings sprouting from her back. At the moment she was jumping up and down in front of Ducky and the bounce of the wings made her appear ready to take flight.

"Abs, if DiNozzo woke up and saw you he might think the angel of death had descended," Gibbs growled.

"Gibbs," Abby screamed, spun on her heels and rushed over to hug him and causing him to duck his head to avoid being slapped in the face by an errant wing. Now that he could see her face, he realized that mascara was melting down her cheeks. "I've been so worried about Tony. I got up at five this morning and just sat in my apartment drinking caf-pows, waiting until I could come here. Ducky says Tony has pneumonia. It isn't fair, Gibbs. Tony doesn't deserve this. I want to see him. I need to see him with my own eyes to really know that he's alive."

As she spoke Gibbs looked through her wings and saw that everyone in the room was staring open mouthed at her. "Calm down Abs. You can't go see him in this state. "He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped at the dripping mascara. "I'll let you but you need to put on a brave face. The nurse warned that we need to keep Tony calm. That means no hugging, squeezing or squealing. He's heavily sedated Abby. I'm not sure how much he understands, but he does respond to quiet, friendly voices."

"I'm just going to tell him what he means to me. Nothing difficult. I want him to know that we are all here for him. I brought him Bert; I want him to remember he's special to us."

Gibbs glanced over, and sure enough, the flatulent stuffed hippo was sitting on a chair, waiting to be assigned to guard duty. "Visitation will be in just a couple of minutes, Abs. They'll let you stay for ten minutes," and even as he spoke the nurse arrived to shepherd people into the unit.

Nurse Maria, Karen's night replacement, was a small Hispanic woman in her early sixties with a serious face. She took one look at Abby and her eyes rounded into enormous saucers.

"She is here to see Tony," Gibbs informed her.

Nurse Maria just nodded. Finally, after clearing her throat, she found her voice and managed, "I know that usually we only let one person in at a time, but perhaps you would like to accompany her," addressing Gibbs.

He smirked and nodded, secretly suspecting that Nurse Maria did not trust leaving Abby alone in the room with a helpless DiNozzo. "We'll be back in a bit, Duck. Will you still be here?"

"I will wait for Abigail and then accompany her to headquarters. I have two guests waiting for me in autopsy so I really must leave when her visit is concluded."

"Understood Ducky," Gibbs said, turning to follow Abby in.

Abby, her arms wrapped around Bert, was in the process of telling Nurse Maria about the myriad germs she had found on a marine who had died on an ICU floor and had been sent to NCIS because they had suspected poisoning. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was an entirely one-sided conversation, as Maria again seemed not to know what to say. Finally they reached Tony's room and Maria hastened away.

Abby rushed to the side of the bed. Without hesitation she placed a hand on Tony's face, softly letting him know that she was there. "You need to get better soon so that we can have a movie night. I just got the DVD copy of _The Wrestler _and have been waiting to watch it with you. "

Tony could hear someone talking to him again. For a moment he was confused because it didn't sound like Gibbs, and yet the voice was almost as familiar. ". . . movie night." He slowly realized it must be Abby. Slowly, he forced his eyes open and found Abby staring at him, her face just inches above his own.

"You're awake," she gushed. "I knew I would be just the cure you needed. Hey there Tony Boy," and she bent even closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I brought you someone to keep you company," and she produced Bert from behind her and placed him by his side.

Tony turned his head to look at the hippo. His right hand moved very slowly over to the toy, and then Gibbs and Abby were gifted with the sound of Bert passing gas.

"Oh Tony," Abby exclaimed, clearly pleased by the sign that Tony knew who she was and seemed to still have a sense of humor. "I knew you were going to get better. Just make sure you do it quickly, mister."

Tony held her gaze to a second, and then his eyes seemed to droop. He forced them open and scanned the room. When he saw Gibbs standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes stilled. His right hand rose up from the bed and gave a weak, but clear wave. Gibbs smiled at him and nodded slowly. Then Tony's eyes closed and Gibbs knew the visit was effectively over. He let Abby babble away at Tony for the next several minutes, but Gibbs knew that Tony didn't hear her. That was okay with him. There was something reassuring about listening to Abby's stream of conscious ramblings to Tony. He had witnessed the same thing innumerable times in Abby's lab. For the first time in twenty four hours, Gibbs began to truly think that things might just be alright.

When the visit was over they headed back to the lounge to say their goodbyes. Ducky looked hard at Gibbs and said, "I take it the visit went well."

"You have ESP now, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but I do have eyes. You look much more relaxed Jethro."

"Tony seemed a bit more aware this time Ducky. It was good to see."

"Yes, I can see that. Well, I really do need to head to work. Come along Abigail; you can come see Tony again later," and he drew Abby to him and headed to the door. Just before he stepped out he turned back to Gibbs and said, "Remember Jethro, of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure." Then he waved, leaving Gibbs with his new found hope.


	17. Chapter 17

_A major part of this chapter has Katherine to thank for its existence, and I would like to echo that thanks!_

**Chapter Seventeen:**

At 8:45 Dr. Anderson sought Gibbs out. "Good morning Gibbs," he said as he walked into the waiting room, looking fresh and crisp in a beautiful navy blue suit and a pristine lab coat. "The other surgeons and I have just been in to see Tony. I'm very pleased with his progress overnight. The first several hours after surgery are always the most dangerous, so I'd say he's doing as well, if not better, than can be expected. Unfortunately, you won't be able to see him at nine. We're taking some x-rays to see how the sutures in the aorta are holding up, make sure there is no bleeding and to take another look at the lungs. I'm sure you know that he has developed pneumonia. The good news is that he seems to be responding nicely to the new medications that Dr. Pitt prescribed. If they continue to work it shouldn't become a life threatening issue. We didn't have any new complications with his kidneys or spleen last night, as we had feared. So that's promising too. We have ruled out the need to put him under any deeper. As a matter of fact, we are actually pleased to see that he has awakened several times and seems to be tolerating the ventilator alright."

"That's good. Dr. Pitt said he would continue to monitor Tony's lungs; if anyone knows Tony's troubles there, it's him. How long is he going to need that damned thing in his mouth?" Gibbs demanded.

"That's difficult to say. A few more days at the very least, I should think. His body is exhausted from the trauma of the beatings and the effects of surgery. He doesn't have enough strength to sufficiently breathe on his own. We need to keep his oxygen levels up so that the heart can heal properly. That's one reason the pneumonia is such a problem. I would guess that Dr. Pitt will have the final say on when it can go. If today goes as well as last night we will probably cut down on his level of sedation tomorrow. We don't want to risk him becoming too agitated, stressing his heart or pulling out the internal or external stitches, so we need to know that he can successfully understand and retain the information we give him."

"Doc, thanks for everything you've done," Gibbs said.

"Well we both have the same hope, to see Tony get better. I'll be back later to check on him and the nurses will call me if there is any change I need to know about sooner," he said, shaking hands with Gibbs.

After Dr. Anderson left, Gibbs headed outside to make some calls. The first call he made was to Vance.

"Gibbs, how's DiNozzo?" Vance asked by way of a greeting.

"Holding his own, Leon. The surgery to repair the aorta tear seems to have been successful, but he developed pneumonia so that's one of their main concerns. He's floating in and out of consciousness now. That's why I'm calling. I need to take a couple of personal days. DiNozzo needs someone here he knows and trusts. They say that it's important that he remain calm and seeing a familiar face helps. Cassie's on the Lynch case, so I figured it'd be okay with you. I can come back when she's dug up more to investigate."

"Of course. Take the whole week. You've certainly got enough comp time coming to you. We can always call you if something comes up that you need to deal with. Taking care of one of our own is the most important thing. I'll rotate your team onto cold cases when Cassie wraps this up. I know she had him in interrogation at seven this morning. Haven't got a report yet, been tied up in MTAC most of the morning." Vance paused, knowing what he was going to say next could cause trouble. "Jethro, let her handle it – you just stay there. You're too close to this; we don't want any questions asked when we nail this bastard to the wall."

"We'll see," Gibbs answered, knowing that Vance was right but not liking it. Not wanting to fight about it right then, he said, "I'll let you get back to it. And Leon, thanks." And that said, he hung up and immediately dialed McGee.

"Agent McGee here." He said, glad for the distraction. Tim had been sitting at his desk, typing up a report on the investigation and wondering if there was a way to make it look as if he and Ziva had not gone off the reservation.

"Report," Gibbs snapped, not bothering to identify himself.

"Um, sure thing Boss." McGee silently wished he didn't feel the urge to salute every time Gibbs said that. "Let me bring you up to speed. Okay, you know how a week ago you went to New York to work that case? Uh, Sorry Boss, of course, um, I mean, um, not sorry, I mean of course you remember. . . "

"Get on with it," Gibbs snapped.

"Right, um, so anyway, while you were gone we caught this case. Of course it wasn't the only case we caught . . . "

"McGee!"

Tim sat up straighter. "Like I was saying, we caught a case about embezzling at the naval base. It seemed there was a problem reconciling purchasing inventories with money being spent. The base had a vendor that was supposedly supplying them with goods they couldn't account for in the inventory. They had been paying the bills monthly for almost a year before the discrepancy was discovered. By the time they discovered this they had paid out close to a million dollars. So anyway, we got called in. We tracked the payments and discovered that all the money was being kept in a bank in Chevy Chase and withdrawals were being made on a regular basis. Tony decided we should set up surveillance, matching the times money was withdrawn with cameras at the bank."

"McGee, what does this have to do with DiNozzo ending up half dead in a warehouse?"

"I'm getting to that Boss. I just wanted to read you in. Anyway, we finally got a picture of a teller paying out money from the account. We could tell the guy getting the money was a naval officer from the uniform, but that was all. The problem was there was this guy behind him who was blocking our view of the officer at the counter. We saw the naval officer have a conversation with this guy behind him in line. We got a real good picture of the guy in back and we put out a bolo on the witness, hoping he could give us a description on the officer. Anyway, it turns out that the witness was Lynch. We were able to match him to the picture."

"So is he our guy McGee?"

"Oh yeah Boss. He folded when Cassie questioned him. He also rolled on the naval officer, an Ensign Matthew Nichols. That was the guy he was meeting with at the bar. He was the real brains. Nichols hatched the whole scam while he was working in purchasing and requisitions at the base. He set up the dummy company and used Lynch to generate the invoices and watch his back when he accessed the bank account that the money was deposited in."

"Still don't get how DiNozzo got in this mess, McGee!" Gibbs barked, his patience completely used up.

"Well, we didn't either at first but Ziva and I came in real early this morning and decided to do a dump on the incoming calls on Tony's desk phone for Friday. Turns out he got a call from a local LEO late Friday afternoon after we had gone home," and McGee paused, as if waiting for some show of approval.

"And?" Gibbs demanded.

"We tracked down the LEO and discovered that he had seen a guy fitting the description we had on the bolo go into the warehouse and called it in. Tony must have decided to go check it out."

"So why the hell did he take a bat to DiNozzo?"

"Lynch is dumb as a rock, Boss. He also has a major crack addiction and is paranoid and irrational. We didn't get a lot out of him but once he knew he was done, Nichols filled us in. I guess when Tony went to the warehouse and identified himself as NCIS Lynch had a major meltdown and decided we knew about the scam and had been spying on him. He kept pounding on Tony to try and get him to tell what we knew. By the time Nichols got there Tony was in bad shape. He talked Lynch down and then took Tony's keys and phone. He dumped the car after wiping it down and destroyed the phone. He left Lynch with instructions on how to clean up evidence at the warehouse. Fortunately for us, Lynch was too far gone to follow instructions. That's why we got the prints."

When McGee paused there was silence on the other end of the phone. McGee sat nervously, not knowing whether he should say more or just keep quiet. Finally he decided it was best to wait Gibbs out.

Gibbs was stunned by the craziness of the story. Once he could speak he ordered, "I want him crucified McGee. Make sure that he gets charged with attempted murder of a federal officer along with all the rest. Have Cassie talk to legal and see what they can do about Nichols. He just left Tony there to die. No deals McGee! Make sure every i's dotted and every t's crossed. No one gets out of this for any reason."

"On it Boss. Uh, Boss, how's Tony?"

"He's a little better today. He wakes up for short periods now."

"When can we come see him?"

"Give him a few days, McGee. He's still intubated and can't speak. He fell asleep in the middle of Abby's visit this morning."

"Tell him we miss him Boss."

"Will do McGee," and he disconnected.

McGee sighed in relief.

Gibbs looked at the closed phone and then looked at his watch. Twenty five minutes before the visiting hour. He wondered what he could do until then. Gibbs wasn't used to have much idle time and he didn't like it. It left him alone to his thoughts and made him feel unproductive. He glanced across the street and considered going for a coffee, but then he remembered the thermos waiting for him upstairs. It was still half full. But that meant it was also half empty. Deciding that this had been a half empty kind of week, he headed across to Starbucks to get some fresh coffee to add to the thermos. Once that was done he had no other choice but to head back up to purgatory.

Ten o'clock rolled around and Gibbs headed in to see Tony, not surprised to find him sleeping. He fell into the routine he had established. Easing into the chair beside the bed that had materialized during the night, he reached out and clasped Tony's still hand, quietly announced his presence.

"Talked to your doctor this morning, DiNozzo. He said you're doing better. That's real good. You just need to keep it up." As he spoke, he reached out and swept his hand across Tony's forehead, feeling for a temperature and also allowing himself the pleasure of touching the smooth, warm skin.

Gibbs knew he had awakened even before he saw Tony's eyes. As he sat murmuring meaningless words, he felt Tony's fingers come to life, offering gentle pressure on Gibbs' hand. "Morning DiNozzo," Gibbs said, aware that Tony would not have registered on any of his earlier words. "Glad to see you back in the land of the living."

Tony's eyes opened. Gibbs' face swam into focus. He rotated his head so that he was looking directly at him. He was frustrated that communication for him was limited to facial expressions and the feeble attempts at gestures his weak arms allowed him. He grasped the watch encircling Gibbs' wrist, looked down at it and then back up at Gibbs.

"It's around ten o'clock."

Tony's index finger tapped on the face of the watch and Gibbs tried to decipher his question. "Tuesday morning; it's Tuesday Tony."

Tony's eyes widened, and then he nodded, released the watch and slid his hand back into Gibb's. The loss of time frightened Tony. His last clear thoughts dated back to Friday night. He remembered going to the warehouse, being ambushed, and then finding himself tied to a chair. His only other memories of the last few days revolved around unbearable pain. Tony was uneasy. It seemed to him that there was something important he was forgetting- something tied to a case- something he needed to tell Gibbs. He hated feeling useless and helpless. He thumbed through his memories, as if accessing a rolodex. Then something occurred to him. Nichols, something about the name Nichols, he thought. Who was Nichols? It angered him that he couldn't think more lucidly.

Gibbs had fallen silent, contenting himself with just gazing absently at Tony for a moment. He felt the pressure on his hand increase. Looking up at Tony's face, he saw that his eyes had changed expression. They looked darker, and seemed restless. He had a kind of wild expression on his face. Gibbs realized that Tony was becoming agitated.

"Easy, Tony. You need to calm down. Everything's fine now. You're going to be okay. The doctors are real pleased with your progress," he said, trying to sooth Tony.

Tony shook his head.

"Relax Tony. All you need to focus on right now is getting better. Nothing else matters right now," Gibbs said, mustering up the reassuring voice he usually reserved for soothing frightened children.

He had to let Gibbs know about Nichols but couldn't figure out how. 'Don't be a wuss,' something in his head said. 'Don't let Gibbs down again.' Maybe if he sat up, Tony thought to himself, and then using every bit of strength left in his body, he tried to lever his body up, using his arms as ballasts. He succeeded in getting his head off the pillow just about the same time alarms began to ring. Several nurses came rushing into the room

"What's going on?" demanded Nurse Maria, glaring at Gibbs as if this were his fault.

Gibbs found himself elbowed out of the way as the chair was pushed aside and Tony was surrounded by hospital personnel. He couldn't see what was going on clearly, but one nurse was talking to Tony, assuring him he was alright and another nurse was busy doing something to several of the machines hooked to him. Nurse Maria was preparing a hypo of some kind. Gibbs watched as she plunged the needle into Tony's arm, and as if in slow motion, the alarms began to ebb, one at a time and the tension slowly drained out of the room.

Once the room was silent again the nurses got busy recording information from the machines, all pointedly ignoring Gibbs. He could see Tony asleep on the bed. He was trying to figure out what to do when Nurse Maria appeared directly in front of him, demanding to know what had happened. Gibbs looked at her tiny body and then her furious expression and instinctually knew he might not win a fight with her.

"I don't know. He was fine, asking about the time, and then he looked worried and became restless. It looked like he was trying to sit up. Then the alarms went off."

"Well, his blood pressure skyrocketed, his pulse got dangerously high, and the attempt at sitting up disrupted the ventilator. He was in the process of killing himself! I had to knock him out with a fast acting sedative. Were you talking about something that might have been upsetting to him?" she said accusingly.

"No, just the opposite. I was telling him how pleased the doctors were with his progress and that he just needed to relax and get better," he answered defensively.

She studied his face, as if checking for the veracity of his claim, and then relaxed a notch. "Well something set him off. Nurse Olson left a note yesterday about him having a mild panic attack the first time he woke up. Since there had been no repetition of that no one gave it much thought. I'll need to get hold of Dr. Anderson and let him know what happened. We'll see what he wants to do. Why don't you go on back to the waiting room. He's sound asleep right now," she said, effectively exiling Gibbs and sending him back to the hell that was the lounge.

Gibbs walked back into the waiting room, experiencing his own minor panic attack. Each beep from the alarms had seemed to have punctured a hole in the invisible armor he had kept wrapped around himself since this nightmare had begun. One second Tony had been fine, squeezing his hand and seemingly glad to see him; and the next second, he had been in the throws of a major meltdown, in the process of dying! Gibbs didn't understand what had happened or why. He could think of only one thing to do. Gibbs reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone, whirled around and head for the hospital's front doors.

Once outside, Gibbs dialed.

"Dr. Mallard speaking," Ducky said, over the top of very loud music, as he stood in Abby's lab having come to check on the results of a test she was running for him.

"Ducky, it's Gibbs."

Ducky looked surprised and then alarmed. "Abigail, turn down that music. Is everything all right Jethro?" Ducky exclaimed, starting out loud and then quieting as the music disappeared.

"Would I be calling you if it was?" Gibbs barked. "Tony almost died just now!"

"Good gracious, what happened Jethro?" Ducky asked, fending off Abby and her wings as she tried to press her ear to the receiver as well, having realized that Gibbs was on the phone.

"I was sitting in the room talking to him, and suddenly alarms sounded. The nurse said his pulse and blood pressure rose suddenly and he set off his ventilator somehow," Gibbs said, experiencing the fright all over again just by describing what had happened.

"What did you say to him, Jethro?" Ducky asked, sounding quite stern. He glared at Abby and held up a finger, indicating that she was to let him talk unmolested for a minute.

"Why does everyone assume it was me? I didn't say anything out of the ordinary, Ducky. I was telling him that he was doing good and then what day it was – because he asked, "Gibbs added before Ducky could jump on him for that.

"Can you remember anything changing with him, Jethro?" he demanded.

Gibbs closed his eyes, replaying the scene in his mind. "After I told him it was Tuesday, it seemed like he was bothered by something and he started to get restless and then the machines went crazy."

"It must have been something he was thinking about then." Ducky paused, while thinking. "If he was processing what day it was, he may well have thought back to the previous days and what had happened to him, Jethro. I would imagine that memory would be enough to produce anxiety in anyone."

"How do I stop him from thinking about what happened Ducky?" Gibbs asked, running his fingers through his hair absently, causing it to form little spikes on top.

"I don't think we can. It's only natural that he will think about it. He will probably dream about also. We just need to find a way to make him understand that he's safe now. That should help prevent the panic attacks. You need to stay with him. He will need the reassurance and security that the familiar can provide. It may be that he will profit from seeing a therapist when he is physically better."

"That'll go over big with him."

"He will follow your lead in this Jethro. If you order him to go, he will. He doesn't have to be happy about it, just compliant."

"You think pretty highly of my influence on Tony."

"I don't think it Jethro, I know it. That boy would jump off a cliff if you asked him to."

"Well, fortunately I'm not likely to," Gibbs said, brushing off what Ducky had said with a snide remark.

"See that you don't Jethro. There is more than one way to jump off or be pushed off a cliff."

Not wanting to deal with that statement, Gibbs brought the conversation to an end. Once done, he headed over to the benches lined along the building and sat. He closed his eyes and let the sun beat down on his face. The tension and sleepless night had begun to catch up to Gibbs, and he slowly started to nod. He was jerked back to wakefulness when he felt someone sit on the bench beside him and quip, "Who let you out of your cage?"

Opening his eyes, he saw Karen Olson smiling brightly at him. She was wearing an outrageous set of scrubs - purple pants with a top that had Tweety Bird and the saying 'chick power' emblazed all over it. He thought they matched her personality, sassy and funny at the same time.

"They didn't let me out as much as they shoved me out," he answered.

"Ouch. What happened?" she asked.

"I was in visiting Tony when he had some sort of panic attack – and before you ask, I didn't say anything to cause it," he huffed.

"I didn't think you had, Gibbs."

"Well that makes you a minority of one."

"Gibbs, he's bound to have some bad times after what happened to him. You can't let every set back get to you. I've got something I want to show you later, after I've started my shift. For now, you need to shake it off and get back up there. I've watched him, he's better off with you there," and with that, she smiled again, stood, waved her good byes, and headed into the hospital.

Gibbs sat for a few more minutes, thinking about what both she and Ducky had said. They seemed to think that Tony needed him there. He wanted to believe that. He knew that he needed to be there for selfish reasons. He couldn't relinquish the task of watching and visiting Tony to someone else. Seeing Tony like this had brought out all of his most protective and possessive traits. It had been a long time since he had felt this way; and he had never experienced it for another man before. He wasn't a novice to having feelings for another man. Over the years there had been plenty of men that Gibbs had found appealing, and a few he had even sought gratification with. But he didn't kid himself; his attraction to Tony was deeper. It was the kind of thing that could consume him, the way it had with Shannon. That thought scared him, for a few reasons. Tony was his subordinate, his male subordinate. That fact had disaster written all over it. Tony was a habitual flirt - male, female - it didn't seem to matter. That pressed every one of Gibbs' jealousy buttons. And lastly, Tony seemed to constantly put himself in danger's way. And that was what scared him the most. If he gave in to his feelings for Tony, what would happen to him if Tony were to die. Shannon's and Kelly's deaths had almost been the end of him. He didn't think he could survive it again. Gibbs shook himself out of his reveries. There was no reason to even be thinking about this. He had no reason to think that Tony would be interested in him in that way. Holding someone's hand when you are scared and in pain was not an admission of feelings and desire; it was a human response. Tony needed to know there was someone there for him. That was all.

Gibbs stood, and headed for the doors. He needed to get back up there. He had been gone too long, and he wanted to know what the doctor had to say about Tony's episode. He tucked his more private thoughts away and rode the elevator back up to the ICU.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen:**

Gibbs' eleven o'clock visit with Tony was uneventful. Tony slept through it, and Gibbs held his hand in silence, afraid to say anything. He carefully schooled his thoughts, not allowing himself to dwell on notions he had no right to have. The exertion of thinking about nothing exhausted him, and when the ten minutes was up, he walked wearily back to lounge. Sitting in one of the recliners, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

Sharp stinging coming from his right hand woke Gibbs up. His eyes flew open and he jerked his hand, causing Nurse Karen to give a small start. She was sitting next to him, and had various medical supplies sitting on her lap.

"Easy, I'm just cleaning your knuckles and applying a clean dressing. You were so out of it I didn't think you'd wake up," she said soothingly.

"What time is it?" Gibbs asked, too tired to bother checking his watch.

"2:45"

"What the hell!?!" Gibbs was furious. "Why didn't someone wake me up? I've been asleep for nearly four hours."

"Don't worry, you didn't miss anything. Tony hasn't woken up. Dr. Anderson decided it was best to keep him asleep for a few hours. Dr. Pitt came by, and when he saw you were asleep, he ordered us to not wake you. He said you wouldn't be any good to anyone if you were half dead yourself. Is his first name really Brad?"

"Would anyone make that up?"said Gibbs, answering her question with another. "What did Anderson and Pitt say about Tony?" moving the conversation back onto topic.

"Tony's fine. He didn't hurt anything earlier. Dr. Anderson said that everything from yesterday's surgeries was holding fine, but they didn't want to risk another episode like earlier. That's why he wants Tony so heavily sedated. It's just for a while – long enough to give Tony some uninterrupted healing time. Dr. Pitt was actually pleased with the last chest x-ray. He said the pneumonia doesn't seem to be getting worse, and thought the medicine seemed to be working. Tony's temperature is down to 100.2, so that's a very good sign."

"Will I still get to go in to see him?" Gibbs asked, giving voice to his silent worry.

"Of course." Karen replied. "I don't think anyone could stop you even if they tried," she joked. When Gibbs didn't reply she continued taping the new gauze to his hand. She worked on as they sat in companionable silence. Once finished, she patted his shoulder as she stood and said, "Let's go check on him together."

When they got to the room, Gibbs saw Tony sleeping peacefully. Gibbs stood by the bed, looking down at him.

"He won't break, Gibbs. Just keep doing what you had been doing. Hold his hand; let him know someone is here. Talk to him. Even though he isn't awake it will soothe him. You know all this; don't let your own fears get the better of you," she said, right before she left the room.

Gibbs knew good advice when he heard it, so he took Tony's hand and began the litany of calming, reassuring words he had seemed to perfect over the last twenty four hours.

The rest of the day continued in a similar pattern – long hours sitting in the lounge, broken by short visits with Tony. Gibbs broke the monotony with phone calls. Calls to McGee to see if there was anything new he needed to know about, not surprised when the answer was no. A call to Ducky, updating him and asking that he keep Abby from coming back that night, glad that he had assigned Ducky that unpleasant task. A quick call to Brad, just to make sure that Karen had been right about the pneumonia and to complain about Brad's orders to let him sleep. Dr. Anderson came and went. Each time stopping in to see Gibbs, assuring him that everything looked good.

Gibbs was in with Tony for the 10:00 p.m. visit when the nightmares began. Tony's head began to move side to side on the bed. His brows pursed and his hands thrashed by his side. The alarms once again sounded. Nurse Karen came hurrying in, followed by the small army of other nurses assigned to the floor. She took one look at Tony and knew what was happening. She shooed the other nurses back out, and turned to Gibbs.

"Take his hand, Gibbs. Talk loudly but calmly to him. He's having a nightmare."

Gibbs did as instructed. "Tony, it's Gibbs. You're just having a nightmare. It's alright. You're safe in the hospital." He paused, watching to see if his words had any effect. The alarms shot through him, causing his own heart rate to accelerate. Looking at Tony, he could see tears slowly seeping from his eyes.

"Tony, come on. You need to shake the dream off. You're fine. I've got you. No one is going to hurt you. Come on DiNozzo. Wake up." Gibbs could feel tears forming in his own eyes as he watched Tony's weak attempts to escape whatever horrors the nightmare was creating. Blinking hard to keep the tears from falling, he reached both hands up and cupped Tony's face. "Tony, calm down. You're fine. I've got your six. No one is getting through me. Wake up now, Tony," he tried ordering again.

Slowly Tony began to still and the machines died down. Tony didn't wake up, but he seemed to have successfully shut out the dream. Still holding Tony's hand, Gibbs sank down into the chair.

"This happens sometimes when a person is deeply sedated. As long as we can talk them out of the dream its okay. You did great. He's resting peacefully now and his vitals are stable. Why don't you go on back to the lounge and try to get a bit of sleep yourself," Karen suggested kindly.

Gibbs pulled himself up and headed to the waiting room. Easing back into a chair, he noticed that his hands had resumed shaking. His heart rate had not yet returned to normal and he stared ahead of him, not really seeing anything clearly. He stood up; not knowing what he intended to do.

That was how Karen found him when she came into the lounge to check on him a while later. Easing him back into a chair, she said, "Stay here, I've got something I want to show you. Let me go get it," and then she crossed back into the ward.

She came back into the lounge, moments later, carrying a large, thick album. She placed it in Gibbs lap, and signaled for him to look at it.

Gibbs opened the cover and turned to the first page. Neatly written on a soft blue paper was, "'Where there is great love there are always miracles.' Willa Cather." Turning to the next page he saw several photographs of different people. He thumbed through the album; it was filled with hundreds of images of people – men, women, old, young – all captured while smiling happily at the camera. Closing the book, he looked questioningly at Karen.

She smiled at him softly and said, "I call it _The Book of Miracles_. All of the people in that book were on this ICU floor at one time. Each one was close to death but overcame their illnesses and survived. I know this paints me as a sentimental fool, but I don't care. And do you know what? One day I'll have a picture of Tony in there. "

Gibbs didn't know how to respond. He was taken aback by the sheer number of people recorded in the book and the sentiment it represented. He looked at Karen, a small smile emerging on his face. "Thank you," was all he could manage.

Karen seemed to recognize that. She patted his hand and stood up again. Without another word, she went back to work, leaving Gibbs to contemplate the meaning of the book.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen:**

"Gibbs, wake up!"

Gibbs felt someone shaking his shoulder as he slowly returned to consciousness.

"Come on! Gibbs, you have to wake up now. I need you."

Gibbs opened his eyes and found himself face to face with Karen.

"It's Tony. He's having another nightmare and I can't wake him up. I need you to try," she said urgently.

Gibbs shot to his feet, suddenly wide awake. Karen had headed for the door, not looking to see if he was following. When they got to Tony's room the alarms were sounding. Gibbs saw that Tony was once again thrashing on the bed. Bert was on the floor beside the bed and Tony's covers were askew. Disconnected electrodes lay limply around his bare chest. He had pulled the IV's out of his hand and blood was pooling on the sheets below it. His fists were clinched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. His eyes were moving rapidly under his closed lids, and his head was swinging from side to side. Gibbs rushed over to his side, already speaking.

"Tony, wake up. Tony, its Gibbs. You need to wake up."

_Tony felt the blows raining down on him. He tried to roll away from them but was stopped by something; he was held in place, completely unable to protect himself. The man was screaming incoherently at him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and everything started to fade slightly. Suddenly Tony was on a dock, staring down at Gibbs unmoving body. Tony realized he was all wet and he lifted up his hand to brush the water off his face. When he withdrew his hand he looked at it. It was red. He reached back up with both hands and pressed them to his cheeks. He then held them out to examine them. They were covered in blood. He looked back down at Gibbs, and saw that blood was dripping from his body onto Gibbs. He jerked to his right and was surprised when he felt something. Looking down, he saw Kate's body, a bullet hole in her forehead. She was staring at him. When he screamed she sat up and laughed at him. "You'll end up in the gutter" she started to say over and over._

"You're okay Tony. It's just a dream. Calm down. I've got you," Gibbs said, as he slid a hand under Tony's neck, cradling the back of his head. With the other hand he softly caressed the top of Tony's head. "Wake up Tony. Come on, you can do it."

_Tony was now desperately applying CPR to Gibbs, trying to get him to breathe. He bent down to blow air in Gibbs' non-breathing mouth. He sat up to compress Gibbs' chest, and then lowered his head again towards Gibbs' mouth. Just before he sealed it with his own, Gibbs' face morphed and Tony found his lips touching Jeffery White's. Jeffery smiled at him and stuck out his tongue, licking blood off Tony's face. Tony tried to scream again but discovered he could make no sound._

"Tony, you're dreaming. It's not real. Tony? Come on back Tony."

_Tony stared at the leering face below him. Jeffery was using his tongue to make obscene facial expressions. Tony felt the pain in his chest again. It blotted out Jeffery's face, and Tony could suddenly hear someone calling him._

"You're having a nightmare Tony. You just need to wake up. Come on Tony. You can do it," Gibbs encouraged.

Tony's eyes flew open. Gibbs' face swam back into his vision.

"That's it Tony. It was just a dream. You're fine now," Gibbs was saying soothingly.

Tony felt fingers running through his hair. He blinked a couple of times, trying to reconnect with reality. He could feel a hand gently holding his head. Real, this was real he told himself. He was awake and Gibbs was holding his head. His body involuntarily shivered with pleasure. His eyes sought out Gibbs'.

"Are you with me now, Tony?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Tony saw the concern on Gibbs' face. He noted how tired Gibbs looked. He slowly nodded his head in answer to the question. He felt Gibbs slide his hand out from under his head and Tony reached up, capturing Gibbs' retreating hand with his own.

"It's okay Tony. I'm not going anywhere. I just need to move out of the way so that Nurse Karen can get you fixed up again. I'm going to move to the other side of the bed," and Gibbs gently disengaged Tony's hand, and nodded towards the woman who had come to stand by his side.

"Hi there Tony. That was quite a dream you were having. It must have been pretty frightening because you even managed to scare me and Gibbs," she said, smiling as she reached over to reattach the electrodes that had been pulled from his body during the dream. She looked familiar, although he couldn't place her. She had a kind face; the few lines on it were the type of creases only smiles gave a person. Tony was surprised when he immediately felt at ease with her. "I'm just going to get you fixed back up; a few things got knocked off while you were dreaming. Don't pay any attention to me."

Tony became aware of his left hand being lowered back down by his side. He felt a rough but warm hand encircle it and give a small squeeze. Tony turned his head to the left and saw Gibbs watching him closely, with an expression that Tony couldn't interpret. That surprised him; he had thought that over the years he had catalogued and defined every one of Gibbs' looks. Even as Tony watched, the expression disappeared, replaced by a warm yet direct look.

"Tony, I need you to listen closely to me. Can you do that?" Gibbs asked him, holding his eyes with his own, not continuing until Tony nodded his agreement. "You're safe in the hospital right now. The doctors are all very happy with how you're doing. Do you get that Tony?" Gibbs asked.

Once again Tony nodded his understanding and was rewarded with a smile from Gibbs.

"That's real good Tony. You've been having bad dreams and slight panic attacks; which is completely understandable," Gibbs added the last quickly. He stopped and watched to see how Tony would react to this. He wasn't surprised when Tony looked confused.

"Gibbs," Karen cautioned from the other side of the bed. Her voice sounded worried. She was looking at him with concern, not wanting him to inadvertently scare Tony again.

Gibbs looked up at her, and said, "Let me do this Karen. I think it will help." Gibbs hoped he sounded surer than he felt. He knew that something had to be done, and straight talk had always worked for him before.

Gibbs gave Tony's hand another squeeze to make sure he had his full attention. "I need you to remember that you're safe now. No one is going to hurt you. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We got the bad guys anyway. They sure as hell aren't getting near you again. You got that Tony?"

When Gibbs told him they had the perps, Tony remembered that he had needed to tell Gibbs something. He wiggled his hand to let Gibbs know. He tried to convey the need through his eyes.

"Easy Tony," said Gibbs, hoping he wasn't making a mistake when he saw Tony's eyes get big and wild looking. "We got the guys that did this to you; John David Lynch and Matthew Nichols. They're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Hearing the name Nichols, Tony started to settle down. That was what he had to tell Gibbs, he remembered; one of the perps was named Nichols. He immediately relaxed. He nodded and gave Gibbs' hand an answering squeeze.

"You have to work at staying calm. They've been sedating you so that you don't hurt yourself by becoming too agitated. Can you promise to do that, Tony? Can you stay calm?" Gibbs asked in a soothing voice, and was relieved when Tony nodded his head. Gibbs was worried that he was beginning to sound like a broken record. He looked over at Karen, who was watching the interaction with a slight, but knowing smile on her face.

"I need to clean up this hand and reconnect the IV's. It's likely to hurt a little," she said to Gibbs.

Gibbs looked down at Tony, who was still completely focused on him. "Tony, Nurse Karen is going to do a few things to your right hand. She has to insert an IV. I need you to hold still while she does it because you need the medicine to keep getting better. Can you do that?" and he was rewarded with another nod from Tony.

Gibbs decided it was time to change the subject. He bent down and retrieved Bert from the hospital floor, placing him at Tony's side. "Do you remember Abby coming to visit this morning?" he asked. He didn't wait for a response, but continued, "She had on quite the get up. I think she freaked out the nurse on duty. It must have been the fairy wings. She had me come in with Abby so you wouldn't be alone with her. Don't know what she thought Abby was going to do to you. That's when Bert arrived," he said, gesturing to the stuffed hippo now resting against Tony's side. "Everyone wants to come visit. I've been putting them off until you're a little better. Can't imagine you having a whole stream of guests when you can't talk. I know that would just about kill you," he said with a smile. As he spoke, he watched Tony's eyes get heavier. "Go ahead and sleep Tony. Just remember that you're safe."

Gibbs' thumb was rubbing reassuring little circles on his hand, and Tony felt himself being lulled into slumber. He linked his fingers through Gibbs' and, burrowing his head into the pillow, he tilted his head until it completely faced the side that Gibbs was standing on. As he started to drift off, he could hear Gibbs still talking softly to him. His last conscious thought was the realization that he felt truly safe for the first time in a long while. With that knowledge, he tumbled back into sleep.

"Gibbs, I've got to get some supplies for fixing this IV. I'll be back in a few minutes," Karen said, interrupting Gibbs' rather mindless murmurs of reassurance. She was privately amused when he gave a small start at the sound of her voice, apparently having forgotten that she was still there. He acknowledged her statement and she hurried out of the room.

Gibbs glanced at the clock on the wall and was surprised to discover that it was only 10:50. He reached his free hand up to Tony's face and placed the back of his fingers along Tony's jaw and cheek. He was surprised when Tony responded by rubbing his face against the fingers, much like the way a cat does when they're seeking affection. Gibbs face softened and he obliged Tony, gently running his hand slowly up and down the cheek for a moment. Then he lowered the hand, and laid it over the top of Tony's hand, which was still laced through the fingers of Gibb's his other hand. "God, what a fine mess," he breathed to himself, not sure if he was referring to the nightmare or his overpowering need to touch Tony.

Karen came back into the room carrying several things, after being gone for what seemed like a long time to Gibbs. "That took awhile," he said.

"I needed to talk to the doctors about what happened and then get these supplies. Gibbs, the doctors and I agree that Tony seems to do much better when you are in the room. For some reason you work better than a sedative."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment, Karen," Gibbs smiled wryly.

Karen laughed at his answer and then continued, "Well, some people wouldn't complain about being another's drug of choice. Anyway, the doctors and I think it might be better if we suspend the visitor rules and let you stay in here with him for a while. He can't keep having these dream episodes. Eventually he's going to do damage that will need to be repaired. It was harder to pull him out of this last one. Maybe if you're here, you can stop it before he gets too far into the dream. I know this is asking a lot . . ."

"Of course I'll stay in here. It's not like I've been doing anything more useful out in the visitor's lounge." Gibbs interrupted her before she could finish.

"Okay then. I'm going to insert this new IV catheter. Just talk to him while I do it. I'd rather he not wake up," she said.

Gibbs resumed his soft, one sided conversation with Tony while Karen worked. He was running out of ideas to use for the endless monologue so he started to tell Tony about the progress he was making on his boat. He started by talking about the woods he was going to use for the interior portions and why he had selected them. He had just gotten around to describing the ebony he has special ordered from the lumber store when Karen said, "All finished. Why don't you move back around to this side? I'll put the chair back and you can get comfortable. If you're good I'll even find you a blanket," she teased. "Don't feel like you have to talk to him all night. He needs to sleep. If he starts another nightmare you should know because the pulse rate monitor will trigger the alarm. Once that happens you know what to do. Maria is covering the night shift again. I'll make sure she knows what's going on."

"I don't think she's overly fond of me," Gibbs told her.

"She's a good lady. She just got shook up when Tony had that panic attack. She's like a watch dog with her patients. Surely you can relate to that." Karen said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Gibbs answered.

"Well, I'll be back with the blanket before I go off duty. I need to write up my reports. Gibbs, you really should trust the machines and try to get some sleep. It's going to be a long night, and Tony may well sleep through it just fine. He seemed better, more peaceful, when he fell asleep this time. Knowing you're here may hold off the nightmares."

"He knows I've always got his six," Gibbs said gruffly, slightly embarrassed by the way the conversation was headed.

"Sometimes it doesn't hurt to be reminded," Karen said as she prepared to leave.

And while Tony slept, the night dragged on. Gibbs alternated between talking to Tony and dozing fitfully. Throughout it all, he maintained physical contact with Tony, whether holding his hand or merely resting his own hand on Tony's arm. Nurses came and went, checking on Tony. Karen said her good byes, and Maria, her hellos. Around four in the morning, Gibbs was sitting up; holding the coffee Maria had gifted him with moments before. As he sipped, he stared unseeing at the displays on the machines monitoring Tony, tired enough to let his defenses down, allowing his mind to wander. Tony was an enigma to him. He usually seemed so confident and assured, but Gibbs knew there was a darkness lurking underneath the shiny surface Tony displayed to the world. He had seen it in his eyes on rare occasions. It manifested itself in Tony's desire for verbal approval. Tony seemed to talk incessantly, joking, teasing or spewing movie quotes at random; but for all his talk, he rarely said anything substantive about himself.

"What do I really know about you Tony?" Gibbs asked, not even aware he was speaking out loud.

"I know you're loyal and brave. I know you're smart and competent. I know you're easy on the eye. I know that despite your antics, you take the job seriously. I know you'd protect any member of the team with your life. I know you like nice things. I know you loved Jeanne." He paused, rubbing at his tired eyes, that last statement having changed the direction of his ramble. "I know things didn't go real well for you when you were growing up, but I don't know the details. I know you blame yourself for Jenny's death, but I don't know how to help you with that. I know you've been working yourself into the ground, but I don't know why. I know you've had a string of girlfriends, but I don't know if guys fit into the equation, too. I know you can't seem to commit to a relationship, but I don't know if that's because you're afraid or just disinterested. I know I'd break Rule Number Twelve for you," and Gibbs instantly stopped talking. That was way more than he had intended to say, and that last bit was an admission he wasn't sure he was ready to face, let alone say out loud, even if it was to a sleeping body. Suddenly he felt pressure on his hand that was linked to Tony's. Looking up, he was horrified to find Tony's eyes open and locked on him.

He tried to pull his hand away, but Tony held firm. "Look DiNozzo, that was totally out of line on my part. I'm just tired and talking out of my ass. I don't even know what I'm really saying."

Tony pressed harder with his fingers, squeezing Gibbs hand until it almost hurt.

"Christ, we can't be having this discussion now. You're in a hospital bed, half dead. We'll talk about this when you're better," Gibbs said desperately.

Tony nodded, and squeezed again.

"Maybe you won't even remember this in the morning," Gibbs added hopefully, under his breath.

Tony's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. Gibbs felt Tony's fingers pull away from his hand, and then reposition themselves as they wrapped completely around Gibbs' hand.

Gibbs sighed. "_And_ I know you are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met," he said, as he brought his other hand up to wrap around Tony's.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty:**

The rest of the night was uneventful. Tony fell back to sleep almost immediately, and Gibbs sat silently and watched him, suddenly a bundle of coiled energy. The previous conversation made him hesitant to say anything, no longer trusting his traitorous tongue. The prospect of the impending conversation had him feeling nervous, doubting himself and his own worthiness. Oddly enough, Tony seemed quite peaceful. There were no more full blown nightmares. Tony stirred restlessly a couple of times, but seemed to be able to chase away the bad dreams on his own.

Morning came, along with a herd of doctors. Gibbs excused himself while they examined the now awake Tony, promising to return when they were done, and headed for the visitor's lounge. When he got there he was surprised to find a very anxious Ducky, pacing the room and muttering to himself.

Seeing Gibbs enter the room from the ICU, he rushed over to him. "Jethro, where in the blue blazes have you been? I've been sitting here for over an hour, worried to death. When eight o'clock rolled along, no one came in here to get visitors for Anthony. Did something happen? Has he taken a turn for the worse?" Ducky demanded of Gibbs.

"Relax Duck. Tony's okay. As a matter of fact, he seems to be doing a lot better. He's awake and much more alert." Pausing, he gave Ducky time to digest that. "He had a particularly violent nightmare during the night and ripped out his IV's. Karen came and got me and I was able to snap him out of it. She and the doctors decided it might be better if I sat with him for the rest of the night. They didn't want him to have another one. Apparently I'm better than a sedative. Maybe that explains why I can't seem to get the team to do any work," he joked.

"I rather doubt that, Jethro. You seem to have quite the opposite effect on young Timothy," Ducky rejoined, relieved to hear Gibbs' explanation. "Well, I am very pleased to hear that Anthony is doing better. What do the doctors say?"

"They're in there with him now. I'm sure Dr. Anderson will come and talk to us when they're through." Gibbs said, as he crossed over to a chair and eased himself down.

Ducky studied Gibbs for a minute. There was something different about him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He finally attributed it to relief over Tony's progress, but in the back of his head he felt there was more to it than just that. Promising himself that he would think more about this later, he crossed over to a chair and picked up a large shopping bag. "I took the liberty of stopping by your house and getting you more fresh clothes. We mustn't let the people here get the wrong idea about NCIS agents," he said, as he handed over the bag. "I have included a towel, wash cloth and shampoo this time. I thought you might be feeling a bit grungy."

"Thanks Duck. I guess we wouldn't want my appearance to scare Tony any more than it usually does," Gibbs quipped, and again, for a second, Ducky saw a flash of that expression he couldn't identify, before it was replaced with the usual intense gaze of Gibb's blue eyes.

"Quite right, Jethro," he said, bothered by the inexplicable, and sat down in the chair next to Gibbs.

As they sat together waiting for the doctor to come in, Ducky filled Gibbs in on what had been happening at work. Cassie had been able to seize Nichols' account and they had successfully retrieved over three quarters of a million dollars. They discovered that Lynch had met Nichols during his brief stint in the Navy, and Nichols had used him to spy on the enlisted men in his unit. Therefore, Nichols always knew what was going on with the men assigned to him, was able to head off almost all bad behavior, and his service record filled with glowing evaluations from his superiors. As a reward, Nichols had been promoted and transferred to purchasing at just about the same time Lynch had been discharged for drug use. Lynch had stayed in touch with Nichols after that, and when Nichols had hatched his embezzlement scheme, Lynch was the logical choice in partner. Nichols threw a little money his way, and used him as his outside man. All of this had been learned from Nichols' last night when he decided to cooperate fully, hoping to lessen the severity of the charges against him. Ducky assured Gibbs that Legal had no intention of doing that, and that the team was still digging, hoping to find even more evidence of misconduct, so as to increase the number of charges Nichols and Lynch would face.

"And you really must call Timothy, Jethro. When you stopped calling him hourly, demanding information, he became concerned that something had happened with Anthony. I assured him that you would have let us know if that were the case, but I'm not sure he believed me," Ducky chastised gently. "You don't have a reputation for being forthcoming."

"Apparently I'm working on overcoming that," Gibbs said enigmatically, and then quickly followed with, "I'll give him a call after we talk to the doctor." Ducky was about to respond both of those comments when the doctor did, in fact, appear at the door. Ducky suspected that Gibbs had seen him approaching.

"Dr. Anderson," Gibbs said, standing and offering out his hand.

"Gibbs," the doctor said, shaking the proffered hand. "Thanks for sitting with him last night. The uninterrupted sleep did him good. He's looking much better this morning. We were all pleased with the change. His temperature is down another degree, and he seems much more alert. I've ordered more x-rays of his heart and chest, just to be sure he didn't do any damage during last night's dream, but I don't expect to see anything."

"He's going to be radioactive by the time he leaves here, Doc," Gibbs said.

Laughing at Gibbs' remark, Dr. Anderson said, "Maybe so, but not finding out about problems until they magnify to the point of requiring more surgery would be much worse."

"What are his blood oxygen levels like, Doctor?" Ducky asked.

"They're looking better today. Dr. Pitt will be by sometime this afternoon to look at the chest x-ray and the oxygen level reports. I'll be eager to hear what he has to say about the pneumonia."

"Are you anticipating any secondary infections?"Ducky inquired.

"We're certainly hoping not. As you know, the longer he stays on a ventilator, the more that risk exists. As soon as he is a bit stronger, and Dr. Pitt gives us the all clear, I want to try and wean him off it. I know that will make him more comfortable as well."

Gibbs stood and listened to the two men discussing Tony's condition. It felt good to have Ducky there to ask the important medical questions. For the last two days Gibbs had felt so overwhelmed by the situation that he had merely listened to the doctors' reports, never questioning the information he was given. He let his mind wander a bit, content in knowing that the doctor was pleased with Tony's progress. He snapped back to attention when he realized they were discussing the nightmares.

"Night terrors are probably to be expected, given what happened," Dr. Anderson was saying. "They should diminish over time. He may need a little help working through what happened, but it's too early to tell yet. Over the next few days, as he moves back onto a more normal sleeping pattern, it may help if there is someone with him at night that he trusts. I was hoping we could prevail on you, Gibbs. It seemed to work well last night." Dr. Anderson said, looking expectantly at Gibbs.

"Of course," Gibbs replied. "Had intended to anyway." And at that, Ducky and Dr. Anderson looked surprised, although both wisely chose not to comment. Seeing their expressions he grunted, "I've had my own experiences with night terrors," and again, his remark was met with wise silence.

Dr. Anderson cleared his throat. "Well then, I'd best get back to my rounds. Just wanted to let you know what was going on. Tony won't be ready for visitors for an hour or so, while we run tests and get the x-rays. I'll have a nurse let you know when you can see him. I guess we've just rewritten the visitor rules for you Gibbs," he said with a warm smile.

"Rule #8 – Never take anything for granted," was Gibbs' response.

Dr. Anderson chuckled. "Well I'll see you later today." And he turned and went back into the ward.

"Well, that's most excellent news, Jethro. I'll be sure and update everyone when I get in this morning. Director Vance made a point of coming down to see me last night just to learn about how Anthony was doing. You _will_ need to let Abby come see him tonight. She won't be put off another day. I really should be quite angry at you, Jethro, for making me deliver the bad news to her yesterday. Abby can be very vocal in her displeasure." He said, shuddering a bit at the memory of their confrontation.

"Tell her to come, Ducky. Tony'll be glad to see her."

"Very good, Jethro. Well, I must head in. The dead are calling to me. Make sure you remember to phone Timothy. These last few days have been hard on him and Ziva."

"Will do, Duck. Thanks for everything," Gibbs said, truly grateful for all that Ducky had done. Gibbs knew that he was one of the best men he had ever known.

"My pleasure, Jethro. Take care of yourself. I will speak to you later," and with that, he headed towards the door.

After Ducky left, Gibbs pulled his overnight case out from under the chair he had stashed it beneath, grabbed the paper bag, and headed to the lavatory to clean up. Once done, and feeling refreshed, he headed out of the hospital, to call McGee and replenish his body's usual levels of caffeine.

McGee had little to add to what Ducky had already told him about the case. Gibbs did learn that Cassie had declined to bring Ziva and McGee up on insubordination charges and that Vance had not pressed the issue. Gibbs made a mental note to thank Leon and Cassie for that next time he talked to them. Cassie had assigned them to cold cases and it sounded as if they were both bored to distraction. Gibbs brought him up to speed on Tony and rang off.

Heading over to Starbucks, Gibbs flashed to the last time the team had been on cold cases for any length of time. It was unusual for them to be rotated off active call, but periodically the powers that be decided every team should stand down for a week. Last time it happened Tony had driven the whole bullpen crazy. It had begun slowly. Monday had moved tortuously slow, interrupted only the squabbling of his team, as Tony pestered and teased. On Tuesday morning, there had been a loud scream coming from the break room. Everyone had run in, to find an administrative assistant, hyperventilating and pointing at the water cooler, in which swam a very realistic plastic water moccasin. Tony's only response had been a self satisfied smirk. On Wednesday morning, everyone on the entire floor discovered their computer mice would not work. There was much cursing and slamming, until it was discovered that the balls had been removed and were now housed in the receptionists' top desk drawer. On Thursday, no one had a single pen which would write – the end of each pen had been dotted with superglue.

Oh, but on Friday, Tony had gone in for the kill. When Ziva arrived at the office and pulled her desk chair back to sit, every single item on her desk, phone included came sailing off. They had been secured to the pushed in chair with a very thin, clear, fishing monofilament. McGee ended up with his fingers super glued to his keyboard. But the piece d'resistance had been the bathrooms. There was not a shred of toilet paper to be found in any bathroom and when the automatic hand dryers had been turned on, talcum powder had flown out and all over the unsuspecting victims. But the most creative prank had been the toilets. All of the levers had been greased, so that one's hand slid off them when trying to flush. After conquering this, every time one was flushed, an amazing number of bubbles appeared in the bowl and then overflowed onto the floor. The janitor later discovered an empty liquid ivory soap bottle, opened and upended, in the bottom of the basin of each toilet. Everyone had known that Tony was responsible, but no one could prove it.

When he got to the store, he noticed people looking at him. Gibbs was embarrassed to discover that he had been laughing out loud and he glared and quickly schooled his face. He sobered quickly, however, when he remembered that all of this had been several months ago. Before California and the arrival of Vance. There had been no practical jokes for a very long time. Gibbs realized that Tony needed to do more than one kind of healing and he vowed to find a way to help him.

After getting his coffee and a bite to eat, Gibbs returned to the hospital and Tony's room. The day quickly fell into a routine. Gibbs would sit by Tony's bed watching him sleep, and talk about anything of no consequence that occurred to him, when Tony was awake. Tony would listen with interest until he dropped back off to sleep. Nurses and doctors would come in and poke and prod. Karen kept him supplied with coffee and food, and when she felt he was nearing desperation, she would stay in the room long enough to introduce a new topic of discussion, carrying the burden of conversation for a while.

Dr. Pitt arrived late in the afternoon. As he entered the room he was amused to see Tony, sound asleep in the bed, and Gibbs, absentmindedly holding his hand, and discussing the merits of the 9 millimeter vs. the .45 automatic handguns. Gibbs had just stated his preference for the 9 millimeter because it had less recoil and was launching into the reasons this was important in law enforcement, when Brad felt the need to interrupt. "I always thought I should be carrying a berretta, myself," he said, and smirked when Gibbs jerked around in his chair.

"I thought you just armed yourself with hypos," Gibbs sassed, as he stood to welcome Dr. Pitt. "How ya doing, Brad? I was wondering when you were going to get here."

"I got held up at Bethesda. No rest for the wicked, you know. So, how's our boy doing?"

"Better. He's staying awake longer today and seems much more attentive," Gibbs almost bragged.

"Oh, I can see that," said Brad, gesturing to Tony's sleeping form. "I heard you were his new favorite sedative, Gibbs."

Gibbs turned and looked at Tony, noticing that he was asleep. Rather defensively he grunted, "He must have just dropped off. It's been a long day."

"For both of you, I'm guessing," Brad said, deciding to let Gibbs off the hook. "I just looked over his chart. Everything is looking much better. His chest x-ray showed that the infection hasn't spread, which is what I was hoping for. I'm pleased that his temperature has lowered. If he improves this much tomorrow, we can discuss taking out the breathing tube. We need to make sure his is stronger when we do that, and that the heart is healing nicely. Right now the ventilator is preventing the usual side effects of pneumonia, but when we remove the tube, the coughing and struggle for breath will come. You remember what it was like last time. I want to make sure that he can take that."

Gibbs wasn't prepared for that. He vividly remembered Tony's recovery from the Y. pestis - the phlegm and blood, the pounding on his back so he could breathe. "Why do it then? Why remove the tube before the pneumonia is gone? Hasn't he gone through enough?" Gibbs demanded, feeling anger and fear warring with each other.

"The longer the tube stays in, the more likely Tony will develop an infection. If that were to happen, we'd have to perform a tracheotomy and he could require long term ventilation. Getting rid of the tube as soon he is able is the best way to protect his lungs, Gibbs. It just isn't going to be easy when it happens. The pneumonia isn't going to go away completely until he is breathing on his own. He needs to fight off the last bit of it himself."

"You think that time might be tomorrow?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm hoping. He's doing really well. If he can tolerate this, it will speed things up even more," Brad answered. "I wouldn't say anything to him about it yet. I don't want to get his hopes up. I know how Tony likes to talk, and how hard this must be on him. Let's just see what another night does for him. I'll be over here in the middle of the morning tomorrow and we can reassess the situation."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for filling me in Brad. I guess we'll just see what happens tomorrow," Gibbs said, not feeling nearly as cavalier as he tried to sound.

"Take care of him Gibbs. He's my most famous patient - the star of many a journal article. I would hate to see something happen to him. I'll see you in the morning," he said as he took his leave.

Gibbs looked over at Tony, making sure that he hadn't awakened during that conversation, and was reassured to see him still sleeping soundly. Not knowing what else to do, he sat back down in his chair and resumed talking softly to Tony.

The evening seemed to drag by slowly. Tony was awake again, and Gibbs was entertaining him with a recount of the case in New York that he had worked last week. Tony didn't seem to be listening hard, although he was staring directly at Gibbs. Gibbs resolutely avoided his eyes. Gibbs didn't want to know what Tony was thinking. He didn't want to have a serious conversation about feelings with Tony right at the moment, but he sensed that was what was on Tony's mind. He redoubled his efforts to distract Tony. And so he continued to talk, on and on and on. Gibbs didn't think he had talked this much in the last six months combined, and was relieved when a very amused Karen announced that a Miss Abby Scuito had arrived to visit.

Abby came bouncing into the room behind Karen. She was dressed in yet another wild display of gothic imagination. Today's offering featured white fishnet thigh-hi's pulled over black tights, white fuzzy fur boots, a black satin circle skirt – not more than eighteen inches long, supported by a soft pink crinoline, and a black, pink, and white striped peasant blouse, tucked into the skirt and held securely by a six inch studded black leather belt which laced up in the back. She had once again iced her outfit with another set of wings. Todays were soft pink tulle, edged in pink marabou, and in her hand she carried a wand.

"Abs, what the hell are you wearing?" Gibbs couldn't help but ask, knowing he wouldn't hurt her feelings.

"I am Tony's fairy god-sister. As long as he's in the hospital I will visit him dressed accordingly. You better be careful or I'll turn you into a toad, Mr. Grumpy!" she exclaimed, as she stood on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then she spun towards Tony, wand held high, and announced, "Izzy Wizzy, you'd best get busy. I command you to get better." And she waved the wand around in circles.

Gibbs snorted and Nurse Karen was bent double with laughter. Gibbs looked over at Tony and could see that he was amused as well. He had his hand out and was clearly asking Abby to come closer.

Karen looked over at Gibbs and said, "Why don't you take a break? Let Abby stay and keep Tony company for a little bit; you go and get a coffee. Fresh air will do you good." When it looked like he might argue, she sought out allies. "Abby," she said. "Gibbs has been sitting here for hours. Don't you think he should get a little exercise while you visit with Tony?"

"Of course he should," Abby said. "You go on and get out of here Bossman. I'll keep Tony entertained for a bit. Go on, scram," she said, as she made little scooting gestures with her hands and magic wand.

As Gibbs left, he could hear Abby launching into a rant about how difficult it must be not to be able to speak. 'Ha, you don't know the half of it Abs,' he thought as he headed for the elevator. Stepping in he savored the feeling of being alone and silent for a moment. Gibbs was by nature a solitary person. Although he liked people, and had even loved some over the years, he spent the majority of his free time alone. Today had been a struggle. He had been torn between wanting to talk to Tony about what he had heard last night and wanting to pretend that it had never happened. Now that he sensed that Tony was at least willing, and possibly eager, to entertain the possibility of there being a "something" between them, he had been more acutely aware of Tony's presence than ever before. The urge to do more than hold his hand had been overwhelming. All of this scared him. He didn't feel like he was in total control around Tony right now, and Gibbs liked to be in control.

The elevator spit him out on the ground floor, and Gibbs was once again surrounded by humanity. Gibbs steered himself across the street to the Starbucks. He idly tried to remember what he had done before there was a caffeine pusher on every other corner. Standing in line, he wondered what Abby was discussing with Tony. He was surprised to discover that he was jealous of her easy rapport with him. He hoped she wasn't wearing him out. Tony tired so easily right now. His thoughts had switched over to how different it would be to go back to work and not have Tony there, when he heard,

"Are you going to place an order, mister?"

He looked up, and saw a black haired, multi-studded, young man staring at him. He looked just like one of Abby's boyfriends. He could feel the glares coming from the people behind him in line. "A venti coffee, black," he mumbled, and watched as the barista filled his cup. Paying, he ignored the looks his fellow addicts were throwing him, and slowly headed out the door.

Once back out in the night air, Gibbs decided that Karen was right. He really did need a change of scenery. Cradling his coffee, he set out down the block, deciding a brief walk would do him good; allow him to think about something different for awhile. God it felt good to move. He hadn't realized how cramped his legs had gotten, sitting in a chair all day. He wondered what Tony felt like, confined to a bed, not even able to sit up. Did his muscles ache, or could he even feel them around the other pain he must be experiencing. As he walked he thought about what would happen when Tony was released from the hospital. He obviously couldn't go back to his own apartment right away. He would be weak and need help doing things. His leg would be in an air splint, and he would be dependent on crutches. He would have dressings that needed changing regularly. Abby would offer her apartment up to him Gibbs knew. That was going to be unacceptable. Tony wasn't staying with Abby. Tony was just going to have to stay at his house until he was well enough to be on his own. He resolved to explain this to Tony later. It would give him a halfway safe topic of conversation. He walked on, barely glancing at his surroundings, thinking about the things he needed to talk to Tony about.

Before he knew it he was back in front of the hospital. Deciding his break was over, and worrying about what was going on up in Tony's room, he headed back in. When he got back to the ICU he was surprised to find only Karen in Tony's room. She was leaning over the bed saying something softly to Tony. Glancing up when she heard Gibbs enter, she said,

"You just missed Abby. Tony was getting tired, and she knew it was time for her to leave. She's really an amazing young woman," the admiration in her voice sincere. "Well, back to work with me. I'll talk to you both later," and she left them alone.

"Hope you had a nice visit, DiNozzo. God knows what Abby had to say to you," Gibbs said gruffly as he approached the bed.

Tony was once again looking intently at him, and then he raised his right hand, and pointed to himself with his index finger, right below the chin. He then lifted his hand higher, and touched his finger to the mask which held the breathing tube in place, right below where his mouth would be.

Gibbs then knew what Abby had been doing during her visit. "Yeah, I missed you too, Tony" he said softly, and gathered Tony's hand in his own and sat back down.

_Author Note: Abby and Gibbs are proficient in American Sign Language. Tony was using ASL to sign "I missed you"._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one:**

Gibbs contented himself with simply holding Tony's hand and eyes. He was talked out. The minutes ticked by, and still they sat there looking at each other. Gibbs remained silent, trapped in his own thoughts, too tired and too confused to do much about it. It seemed as if Tony understood, because eventually he gave Gibbs' hand a weary squeeze and let his eyes close. Gibbs wasn't sure if Tony was really asleep or just inventing a new kind of hospital visitation etiquette – the one that states you have to let your visitors off the hook when they don't know what to say. That was one of the funny things about Tony, Gibbs thought. He could joke and tease unmercifully when he found someone's weaknesses, but he was also capable of great sensitivity. It was Tony who had dealt with McGee when he shot and killed that policeman, Tony who Abby confided in, and it was Tony who had held the team together during the dark months he had spent in Mexico. Gibbs pushed that thought away. There was no point in revisiting past bad choices. Now was the time to figure out what tomorrow might bring.

Gibbs knew this silence couldn't continue. Tony was going to need the distraction from pain that talk could provide; and soon, they were going to have to discuss what was happening between them. Gibbs wondered if he could fall back on the old adage, 'Actions speak louder than words,' but knew that would never fly. Neither one of them was good at talking about things that really mattered. They would need to have one deeply personal and uncomfortable conversation if they were going to be able to fall back into their more natural pattern of half stated thoughts and meaning laden looks. Yeah, because that had worked out so well up until now, he thought bitterly. This was why he avoided relationships, he told himself. He sucked at them and usually found a way to truly screw it up. He didn't want to make the same mistakes with Tony. If they were going to start something, then he needed it to last. He wasn't prepared to deal with the ramifications loosing Tony would produce. This was making him crazy - too much talk and way too much soul searching. Gibbs was saved from his urge to tear out his hair when Karen came into the room.

"I see he's gone back to sleep. This has been a long day for him, I'm sure."

"Yeah."

"Marianne's making a run for coffee, do you want some?"

"Yeah - black," he said, digging in his pocket for money.

"Tony and Abby seem to have a special friendship. It's nice to see a bond that strong."

"Yeah."

"Don't strain yourself making conversation." She paused, giving him time to respond. When he said nothing she continued. "Hey Gibbs, did you know self pity isn't a good color on you?" she said, not really asking a question.

Gibbs looked over at her, the sharp retort he had ready died on his tongue. She stood, hands on her hot pink clad hips, looking at him with understanding and amusement. There was something about that woman he thought. He wondered how someone he had known for such a short time seemed to have such a good read on him and still wasn't afraid to call him on anything. Shaking his head and giving her a rueful smile, he said, "I'll try to do better. You know, if you ever get tired of nursing bet you'd make a hell of a profiler."

"That's what makes me a good nurse." She took the money he was holding in his hand and headed for the door, but stopped when she got to it. Turning back to Gibbs, she said, "Sometimes we all need more than just friends. Sometimes we need to know we're irreplaceable to someone." And with that, she waved the money and left.

"How'd you like that DiNozzo? Looks like you've got yourself a new ally." Gibbs said, feeling his funk slowly lifting. He looked over at Tony, and getting no reaction, he knew that Tony was really asleep.

Gibbs settled back into the chair and prepared for another long night. Karen returned with coffee and copies of the day's papers. Gibbs entertained himself, reading and periodically checking to see if Tony was awake.

At 11:15 Gibbs noticed that Tony was getting restless. Putting down the paper he stood and, reaching down to grasp Tony's hand, he murmured reassuring words. Tony's head was once again moving from side to side, in a vain attempt to escape whatever nightmare his subconscious had trapped him in.

_Jeanne, Kate, Jenny and his mother surrounded him, arms linked - their bodies insubstantial and devoid of color. Gibbs stood on the outside of the circle, trying to get in but the women kept blocking him. Gibbs' arms reached straight through their bodies, but still he could not break through. He was on his back on the ground; arms and legs stretched out away from his body and tied securely to stakes which had been pounded into the ground. He wore only a pair of thread bare jeans, the rest of his exposed flesh was covered in bloody welts and pain racked his body. The women were all pointing at him and laughing. They started to chant something he could not hear clearly. Something was blocking out their voices, and then he could feel something touching his hand._

"Hey Tony, it's time to wake up. Come on Tony, you're just dreaming again," Gibbs soothed. "Come on, open your eyes. You can do it."

The hand he was holding slowly came to life, returning the pressure Gibbs was applying. Tony's eyes opened and immediately sought out Gibbs.

"Hey, you okay Tony?" Gibbs asked, disturbed when Tony just stared at him.

"Tony?"

Tony blinked, and slowly nodded.

"You back with me? Another nightmare?" Gibbs asked, although he already knew the answer.

Again Tony nodded his reply.

"You okay now?"

And Tony raised his other hand slightly and gave a thumbs up.

Giving Tony's hand a quick squeeze, he extracted his hand from Tony's grasp and reached over to the table next to the bed where the nurses kept a green plastic bowl of water and a generic white wash rag. He dipped the cloth in the water, rang it out, and wiped off the sweat that had formed on Tony's forehead during the dream. Tony's eyes followed his movements. He stopped when he realized how intimate the gesture was. He hadn't thought about it when Tony was unconscious, but now found himself embarrassed to be cleansing Tony while he watched.

"Sorry, you were sweating, was afraid it would run down into your eyes," he said weakly as he started to withdraw the cloth and his hand.

Tony's hand reached up quickly and wrapped around Gibb's wrist, effectively stilling his hand. Tony knew that Gibbs was extremely uncomfortable with the situation or he would _never_ have resorted to apologizing. When he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that so was he. Not that he hadn't spent countless nights fantasizing about Gibbs, imagining what he would do to his body if they were together, but now that the chance existed, he found those thoughts almost too overwhelming. He suspected that Gibbs felt the same way. He knew how easy it would be to pretend that nothing had changed between them – chalk all this up to the intensity of the situation – go back to how things had been. He couldn't let either one of them do that. When Gibbs resumed rubbing his face with the cloth Tony relaxed his grip and allowed his hand to slide up Gibbs' forearm, enjoying the feel of hard muscle through the soft burgundy pullover covering his arm. Gibbs reached up with his other hand and removed the cloth, replacing the rag with his now free hand. He rubbed it across Tony's forehead and then slid his hand up onto his head, where he gently and repeated corded them through his hair. Tony allowed his eyes to close to a slit, savoring the feeling.

"Tony," Gibbs said his voice thick and low; when he paused, Tony looked up at him. Gibbs took a deep breath and tried again, "Tony," and again he stopped. After several seconds, he choked out, "I need to put down the wash cloth. The water's running down my arm," and he removed his hand from Tony's head as he moved back over to the table to lay down the discarded cloth.

'Well, that was special,' Gibbs said silently, disgusted with himself as he stared at the bowl of water. When he turned back around he could see the frustration in Tony's eyes. For one guilty moment he was glad for the breathing tube, glad that Tony couldn't vocalize whatever was running through his mind. Then, not wanting Tony to think he had rejected him, he reached over and pulled his hand back into his own.

"I'm not good at this Tony," he said, clearly stating the obvious since Tony's response was to roll his eyes. "I can't do this while you're like that. It feels wrong. Makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

Tony shook his head as vigorously as possible; his only way of conveying his thoughts.

"Maybe not, but I can't help how it makes me feel. I need you to be able to talk to me, tell me what you want. I need you not to be covered in bruises, bandages and electrodes. I need you to be able to go to sleep without being afraid of what nightmare lays waiting for you. Christ, I need you not to have a fucking tube down your throat," and Gibbs stopped, unable to continue as his throat constricted. Tony gave his hand a gentle squeeze and then repositioned his hand so that he was covering Gibbs' hand with his own.

Gibbs looked down at their hands. "How screwed up is it when the patient is comforting the moral support?" Gibbs asked rhetorically, needing desperately to lighten the mood. Looking at Tony, he imagined the smart assed retort he would have made if able. As it was, Tony's eyes shone and he softly rubbed his thumb against the pressure point on Gibbs' wrist.

"Go back to sleep Tony. We aren't going to solve anything tonight, and you need to rest if you're going to get better," Gibbs implored. "I'll be here when you wake up." For now, that was the best he could do. Everything else was going to have to wait.

Tony didn't comply immediately, but he did content himself with lying still and holding on to Gibbs' hand. Eventually, however, his body's need for rest won out, and he closed his eyes and fell asleep. At some point, Gibbs followed suit, slumped in the chair, his head lulled to one side.

That was how Dr. Anderson found them when he arrived at 7:30 a.m. for his morning rounds.

"Good morning," he said, loud enough to wake them. Letting go of Tony's hand, Gibbs dragged his fists over his eyes, trying to adjust to being awake. Looking over at Tony, he could see him slowly fighting off sleep.

"Morning," Gibbs grunted, instinctively standing up and offering up his hand. Taking in Dr. Anderson's freshly groomed dark hair, crisply starched blue dress shirt, rich navy and red silk rep stripe tie, and neatly pressed grey dress slacks Gibbs was aware of how crumpled and ragged he must look. "I'll leave you to it." He turned back to Tony, not surprised to find him watching him. "Be back after he's done, DiNozzo. Figure you'll have your regular photo session this morning," he said, looking at Dr. Anderson for confirmation.

"You're on to us I see," Dr. Anderson joked. "But you're right. I need to examine Tony and then have them take more x-rays. I looked over the charts before I came in. It looks like last night went better. That's great. I'll stop in to let you know when he's done, Gibbs," and he turned his attention to Tony and started talking.

Hoping that Ducky had once again stopped by this morning, Gibbs left the room, heading for the lounge.

"Special Agent Gibbs," Maria called, as he passed the nurses' station.

Gibbs stopped and turned back around.

"Dr. Mallard was here early this morning. He said he had a pressing autopsy to perform and couldn't stay. He asked that I give you this bag, when you came out," she said, reaching under the counter, producing a very large purple shopping bag, which she heaved up onto the counter.

Thanking her, Gibbs took it from her, surprised by its weight. Not trusting the handles, he carried the bag in two hands and headed into the waiting room. Sitting in the chair next to where he had his overnighter stored, Gibbs sat the bag on the floor and opened it up, eager to see what was in it. Lying on top was a clean pair of jeans, underwear, socks, a red polo, and a grey sweatshirt, with something printed on it. Unfolding the top, he was amused to see Ohio State emblazed on the front. Gibbs was laughing as he set the clothes aside. Next he found a collection of puzzle magazines and some pencils. Under these lay three books. Pulling them out Gibbs examined them; there was the new Tom Clancy novel, a John Grisham book, and something called _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_. Piling these on top of the clothes, he reached back in and pulled out a very small CD player. Tucked in beside it was a plastic bag wrapped with a rubber band which held a note in place. Freeing the note, Gibbs unfolded it and read:

Jethro,

I assume by now you are running out of things to say, and Anthony is tiring of listening to you struggle. I thought a little music might provide a good distraction for you both. I consulted Abigail, and she provided me with these CD's, assuring me they are some of Anthony's favorites. I know that he would probably have preferred a DVD player, but I doubt if he is really up to watching an entire movie at the moment. So here is my present to you both. Hopefully you will find these pleasant, even when Anthony is asleep.

Take care. I'll try to stop by this evening.

Donald

Gibbs opened the bag and looked at the CD's – a couple of Frank Sinatra's, Coltrane's _Ascension, _a couple by groups called The Talking Heads and Gnarls Barkley, and a Miles Davis. Gibbs told himself that it could have been a lot worse. At least he knew who three of the artists were. He tucked the magazines, books, CD's and player back into the bag. He pulled his overnighter out, and replaced it with the bag, then grabbed it and the clean clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Gibbs continued what had become his morning ritual. He washed and changed (grinning a little when he donned the OSU sweatshirt), went for coffee and a Danish, took a walk around the block, called McGee and Vance, and headed back to the lounge. Reaching for the bag, he pulled out a pencil and puzzle book and settled in to wait. He was halfway done with a crossword when Dr. Anderson appeared.

"It's looking good Gibbs," he said without preamble. "The tear around the aorta is starting to show signs of mending and the leg x-rays are very promising. I don't know what Dr. Pitt will think of the chest x-ray, but I sure don't see any additional congestion. I'm in favor of trying to wean him off the ventilator but we'll have to see what Dr. Pitt thinks. He's due over here at some point this morning and will decide then whether to remove it or not. Once he's off the ventilator, and seems to be doing alright on his own, we can think about moving him to a regular room. How were the dreams last night?"

"Only one nightmare as far as I could tell," Gibbs answered.

"Well, it could be a lot worse," Dr. Anderson said. "Things may get better after the ventilator is gone, also. We'll have to see. You might as well head back in. Everyone's gotten used to you being there. I've got to get going, but I'm sure to see you later. Hang in there; he's a real fighter Gibbs. He's going to be fine."

Grabbing the bag from Ducky, Gibbs returned to Tony's room. When he got there, Tony was sound asleep. That didn't surprise him. The examinations and x-rays exhausted him. Gibbs stuck his head back out the door and asked Nurse Maria if it would be alright if he played a CD quietly.

"That depends on the CD," she answered, coming over to see what he had to offer. Looking over the selection, she pulled out _From the Heart_, by Sinatra and said, "I don't see how this could bother anyone as long as you keep it very low. Each room is separated by glass walls and curtains, after all. Besides, I've always been partial to blue eyes," she said with a wink and a grin.

Gibbs placed the CD player on the small bedside table and looked it over. From a panel in the back he extracted a power cord, which he plugged into an outlet on the wall. Opening the bag, he pulled out the Sinatra CD and used his teeth to tear through the cellophane wrapper. Popping the CD into the slot, Gibbs punched buttons until he succeeded in getting the music started. "Blue Skies" softly filled the room. Grabbing the half finished crossword, Gibbs settled down in the chair, waiting for Tony to awaken.

Sinatra had just started singing "Autumn In New York" when Gibbs heard the bed shifting. Looking up he saw Tony's eyes open. Standing, he said, "Ducky sent a CD player and some music. Guess he thought you must be sick of my voice by now."

Tony looked him over and pointed to his sweatshirt, his eyes silently laughing.

"I have no idea where he found this. Figured it couldn't have been easy. Thought the least I could do was wear it," Gibbs quipped. "Didn't know what you would want to listen to but figured Sinatra was a safe choice."

Tony nodded his head in agreement, and then tapped at his wrist. By now Gibbs knew that was his way of asking for the time and day.

"It's around 10:30 on Thursday morning. You've been here just long enough for everyone to get tired of you," he joked. "Dr. Anderson says you're doing so well that you may get to move to a regular room soon."

Tony's hand reached up the ventilation tube and looked at Gibbs questioningly.

"I don't know Tony. Brad should be here some time this morning. He's going to be the one with the final say on when that gets removed." He looked at Tony's now beaming face and wondered how much he should tell him. Deciding that he never appreciated being left in the dark, and knowing that Tony felt the same way, he pressed on.

"You need to prepare yourself for what its going to be like when that gets removed, Tony. Even though you're doing better, you still have pneumonia. When they remove the tube, all of the unpleasant symptoms are going to return. There won't be any respiratory people coming in to suction all the gunk out. You'll have to cough to clear out your airways. You remember what that was like."

Tony nodded slowly in response. He recalled vividly what it had been like when the Y. pestis had been killed, leaving him with a raging case of pneumonia. Memories of what it felt like, spitting up mucus and blood, too tired from the constant hacking to even wipe his own mouth, flooded back. He didn't know if he was strong enough to face that again. Fear replaced the happiness in his eyes.

"Hey, it might not be as bad as last time. They've been pumping antibiotics into you for the last three days. Even if it is, it'll be okay, Tony. I've always got your back. You'll get through it."

Tony held up his hand and Gibbs knew what he wanted. Taking the proffered hand in his own, he settled them both back on the bed, and sat down in the chair. "We might as well sit and listen to old Frank; no point in worrying about this now. Brad will be here soon and we'll see what's up."

They sat, companionably listening to the music, each lost in their own thoughts. Letting the music relax him, Gibbs silently vowed to buy Ducky a very expensive bottle of scotch as a thank you. Holding the crossword puzzle, Gibbs had just written 'consider', in answer to the question 'to take into account', when Dr. Pitt arrived, dressed casually in khaki's, a button down yellow shirt, no tie, and a lab coat thrown casually over the top of everything. Maria was right behind him as he entered the room.

"Morning you two," and he stopped, laughing uproariously when he took in what Gibbs was wearing. "Oh my god, you've been totally corrupted. This is almost too much for a good Wolverine to stand. Where in the hell did you get that?"

"Ducky brought it, the CD player too. Think he's worried about my ability to entertain Tony and is looking to help."

"Well, it entertained me. How about you Tony?" Brad said, moving over to the bed.

Tony nodded his head, his eyes laughing. He waved a hello to Brad and then reached up to the face mask, his question easily decipherable.

"I don't know yet Tony, but if you're enough better to ask that's a good sign. I looked at the film from this morning and Dr. Anderson's notes. Everything seems like a go from his end. I need to check a couple of things. I'm going to go ahead and suction out any mucus that's formed in the time since the last time respiration therapist was in here," and he reached over and used the machine for pulling out the build up. Once that was done, he checked Tony's oxygen levels again, seeing if there was any change.

"Okay Tony, I need you to do something that will seem a little strange given the intubation. When I tell you to, I need you to try and take as deep a breath as you can. You've been letting the machine do all your breathing for you and I need to see how strong your breathing muscles are right now. You ready?" he asked, waiting for Tony's response.

Tony nodded eagerly.

"Okay, go ahead and take a deep breath."

Gibbs and Dr. Pitt watched Tony's chest raise higher and then fall back to normal.

"That's great Tony. Let's do it again."

Again Tony's chest expanded as his lungs filled with the additional air.

"How do you feel, did that hurt," Brad asked, after the machine resumed controlling Tony's breathing.

Tony shook his head back and forth definitively.

"Would you tell me if it did?" Brad asked, holding Tony's eyes, well aware of Tony's tendency towards stoicism on important issues.

Tony looked at him for several beats, before he slowly nodded his head.

"Okay then, you ready to get rid of that thing?"

Tony's nods became much more enthusiastic.

Maria moved to the other side of the bed and gently placed her hands over Tony's, applying enough pressure to secure them. Then Brad looked down at Tony. "This is going to be uncomfortable, Tony. Once it comes out, you'll need to cough to get out any secretions this dislodges. We'll supplement your oxygen with a nasal cannula and continue to monitor your oxygen levels. I assume Gibbs has talked to you about the pneumonia and what that means?"

Tony nodded his response.

"Okay, then you know what to expect." Reaching over, he removed the plastic mask protecting the tubing. "Okay, here goes." And he gently pulled the tubing out of Tony's mouth.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

Tony was gasping for air and coughing violently while Nurse Maria wiped away the secretions with a damp cloth. Dr. Pitt was holding Tony tightly by the shoulders, having helped him into a sitting position. Gibbs was standing at the foot of the bed, hands clenched by his side and eyes wide.

"Easy Tony. I've got you. Don't worry about holding yourself up, just try to relax," Brad said. "Maria, do you have a hypo ready in case we need it?" he asked, looking across the bed.

"Yes, Doctor," she responded.

"Why would you need that?" Gibbs demanded, surprising himself with his ability to formulate words.

"We can't let him hyperventilate, Gibbs. Come on Tony, easy does it. Just try to take a normal breath." He looked over at Maria again. "Can you come over here and get the nasal cannula set up? We're going to need it soon."

"No problem," she said. "Gibbs, why don't you come over here and you can wipe his mouth while I do that." She handed the cloth off to Gibbs as she went over to the ventilation machine and began to unwind the cannula.

Gibbs stood by Tony's side, looking at the cloth in his hand, frozen in horror. The cloth was stained deep red with Tony's blood. Looking over at Tony he saw spittle, mixed with blood, dripping from his still coughing mouth. Gently, he pressed the cloth to the fluids.

"Tony, I'm going to slide a strap around your head and then hook a nasal cannula to your nose. It'll give you a bit more air and make it easier for you to catch your breath. Are you ready?" Brad asked.

Tony tried to nod but was having a hard time controlling any part of his body.

"Gibbs, can you wrap your arm around Tony and hold him up while I do this?"

Gibbs didn't bother answering; he just reached out and grasped Tony. Seeing that Tony was secure, Brad let go and took the device from Nurse Maria.

"Slow, easy breaths Tony. Come on, you can do it. Okay, here comes the strap and the cannula," and he reached over and fastened it to Tony. Once it was in place he looked over at Maria and nodded, indicating that she should turn on the flow of oxygen.

"Here comes the air Tony. This should help. Take shallow breaths; don't aggravate the cough. That's it, nice and easy. Good job, Tony," Brad was saying in a calm, steady voice.

With one arm wrapped around Tony, holding him steady, Gibbs used his other hand to wipe away the mucus Tony was coughing up. He could feel the tension in Tony's body. He tightened his grip on Tony's shoulders, pulling him closer to him. "I got you Tony. Relax; I'm not going to let you go. Just work on doing what Brad says. You're going to be fine," Gibbs said.

Slowly Tony's coughs began to subside and the gasping was replaced by more controlled breathing.

Brad turned the lever on the side of the bed, adjusting the slant of the head upward, and then said, "Let's ease him back down now, Gibbs."

Gently, Gibbs lowered Tony down until his back touched the bed, leaving him in a half reclined position. He slid his arm out from behind Tony, but left his hand touching his shoulder. Tony closed his eyes, trying desperately to steady himself. Although he still occasionally gasped, it was clear that his breath was beginning to even out.

'You're doing great now Tony. Would you like an ice chip?" Brad asked, knowing that Tony's throat would be raw from the tube and very sore. Reaching back, he grabbed the small glass of ice that Maria had set on the table when they came into the room.

Not bothering to open his eyes, Tony managed to nod, and opened his mouth slightly to accept the ice.

Gibbs watched without saying anything. This was his first chance to really get a look at Tony's face. He was appalled when he saw his mouth. It had been obscured by the mask for the past three days, and the last several minutes had been too frightening for him to really focus on Tony's face. His lower lip was swollen and bruised. It had been split in two places, one of which had apparently required suturing. Gibbs found himself irrationally furious with Lynch all over again.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed vehemently, causing Tony, Brad and Maria to all look over at him in surprise. Feeling their gazes, he realized he had spoken out loud. "Sorry, I'm sorry" he said. "I just wasn't expecting your mouth to be hurt," he explained to Tony, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Tony reached a hand up and gingerly touched his mouth. Wincing slightly, he lowered it back down and looked back over at Gibbs. Once he had Gibbs attention, he smiled wryly.

Gibbs was stunned by the smile. It seemed like an eternity since he had seen Tony smile. "Don't worry DiNozzo. You'll be pretty again some day soon," he said. Brushing off his emotion with a lame joke.

Tony tried to preen and nodded his agreement.

"You know, you can probably try to talk now," Brad said.

Tony's head riveted towards Brad, and he looked at him as if he was the most brilliant man in the world. He had become so used to not being able to speak that the full significance of the tubes removal had been lost on him. Swallowing, he was suddenly aware of how very painful this throat was. He must have winced because Brad asked,

"Want one more ice chip before you give it a go?"

Taking a second to assess his throat, Tony decided that would probably be best. He weakly held up his hand and took the cup from Brad. Tilting it back, he allowed some ice and melted water to trickle into his mouth. He gave himself a second to savor the feel of cold liquids running down his abused throat. Finally he felt ready to try out his vocal cords.

Looking at Brad, he smiled and managed to croak out a weak, but audible, "Go Buckeyes," causing the entire room to dissolve into laughter.

"I'll let that slide this time Tony. It's clear the drugs have made you delusional and clouded your taste," Brad rejoined, although the relief he felt over hearing Tony speak was clearly evident in his voice.

Tony was now looking over at Gibbs, and he managed to whisper a soft, "Hey there Boss," before another round of painful hacking engulfed him, blocking out everything else.

The room sprang back into action. Gibbs helped Tony sit up, when he pushed away from the back of the bed, as if trying to escape the coughs. Brad murmured reassuring words, and Maria produced a clean cloth which she used to wipe away the phlegm and blood.

"That's probably enough talking for right now. We're going to give you a shot to help you sleep Tony. Your body has to readjust to breathing on its own. The sleep will also help lessen the intensity of these coughing fits," Brad said, and held out his hand for the hypo Maria had prepared earlier.

"No, " followed by more intense coughs. "I'm fine," Tony managed to gasp out between rounds.

"I don't agree DiNozzo. Let Brad give you the shot," Gibbs ordered, in a tone he knew Tony would not disobey.

Before Tony could even respond, Brad had stuck the hypo into his arm.

After a couple of minutes Tony ceased coughing and went limp in Gibbs arms, sound asleep. Gibbs placed him back onto the bed and looked over at Brad. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now he sleeps for at least the next five hours. It was a pretty strong sedative Gibbs. His body is exhausted from the mere act of breathing and the coughing is taxing it beyond its limits. By sedating him, his body will have a chance to normalize some. It will also keep him from trying to talk, which aggravates the coughing. Respiratory therapy will come in on a regular basis while he's asleep and suction out the mucus he would otherwise need to expel through coughing."

"But he's going to be okay?" Gibbs asked.

"He should be. He did as well as could be expected just now. We will monitor his breathing and oxygen levels constantly for the next few hours. Take the time this buys you, Gibbs. Go home for a couple of hours. Tony's not going to wake up – we won't let him right away. You're not doing him any good at the moment. He'll need you when he wakes back up."

Gibbs didn't like the notion of leaving Tony defenseless in the hospital, but he recognized the wisdom of Brad's words. He could use a shower and a chance to look through his mail. Looking down at Tony, he reached over and briefly touched his hand, as if to say goodbye, and then he looked at Maria and said, "I'll only be gone a couple of hours. You'll call me if there is even the slightest change?"

Maria assured him she would, although she knew that had been more of an order than a request.

"Go on Gibbs. You're wasting time. Tony will be fine while you're gone." Brad said.

"Will you be back later?" Gibbs asked Brad.

"Yep, I'll stop back in this evening. I'll want to monitor him more regularly now that he's off the ventilator. We need to see what happens with the pneumonia."

"Thanks for everything Brad," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave.

"It's my pleasure, Gibbs. Tony is the best kind of people."

Letting that stand as the final statement of the morning, Gibbs waved a farewell and headed through the door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**

Abby was in her lab, running some evidence for Johnson's team on Major Mass Spec, and IM'ing back and forth with a friend from school. Her half finished lunch lay on her desk and Gogol Bordello's _Gypsy Punk _was playing loudly enough to register on the Richter Magnitude Scale. In a stunning display of multitasking she was dancing and singing to the music while she typed on the laptop balanced on the table next to Major Mass, occasionally glancing over to check on the results being tabulated, and juggling a large Caf-Pow. She had clearly subscribed to her own version of 'office casual' that day, as she had discarded her usual alarmingly short skirts in favor of a pair of black bellbottom pants, which almost looked normal, if you overlooked that fact that the lower half of the pant legs were only attached to the upper half by red velvet garters, allowing the viewer to see about ten inches of the red fish-netted thighs that lay beneath the pants. An array of studded black belts and rhinestone embellished chains hung casually around her hips, complimented by the black and red gauntlet lace gloves that covered her forearms. Her short black t-shirt featured a picture of a sexy female vampire with the question 'Join Me For A Bite?' printed on it in bold dripping red ink, and today's version of wings were shaped to look like black bat wings.

When Gibbs walked into the lab, he stood quietly for a second, smiling as he looked her over. Then, knowing he rarely had the chance to surprise her, he said loudly, "What ya got for me, Abs?" grinning when she jumped at the sound of his voice and spun towards him.

"Gibbs, you're here!" she said, announcing the obvious, as she launched herself at him. "Hey wait, who's with Tony? You didn't leave him all alone did you, Gibbs?"

"Relax Abs, he's asleep right now."

"But what if he wakes up and he's all alone?"

"He's not going to wake up right now, Abby. Dr. Pitt sedated him."

"What?! What happened Gibbs? That can't be good!" Abby said, her face lining with concern.

"It is Abs. They took the breathing tube out this morning and he's sedated so he can get some rest and readjust to breathing on his own. I'm just here long enough to finish my paperwork on our raid of the warehouse and then I'm heading back over to the hospital. Tony'll never know he was alone. I wanted to stop in to tell you. Look Abs, I know you were planning to come see him tonight but I wish you'd wait a day. Tony's having trouble talking. The pneumonia is causing problems, and every time he speaks it sets off a round of coughing."

Abby started to argue, but Gibbs held his index finger up to her lips. "Tomorrow'll be soon enough Abs. He'll be glad to see you then. I doubt if he'll even be fully awake tonight. Let him rest so he can really visit with you when you come."

Abby pressed a light kiss to his finger, signaling her compliance. "You got it. But you better tell him how much I miss him."

"He knows Abby, but I'll remind him anyhow," Gibbs said with a smile. "Gotta get up to the bullpen and finish that report. I'll call you tonight and let you know how it's going." And he kissed her on the right temple and with ears ringing, he headed for the bullpen.

Pleased with his success in surprising Abby, he decided to repeat the process upstairs. Taking the circuitous approach he paused at the wall divider, looking at his team. McGee sat at his desk, eyes closed and feet propped up, in a pose he had clearly learned from Tony. Ziva had a pile of mutilated paperclips sitting on her desk top and was presently bending another into an odd shape. Smirking, Gibbs barked, "Report people!"

"Boss," McGee exclaimed, feet falling from the desk, and chair tipping dangerously to the side. "I was just meditating about a cold case."

"I hope you do it better than DiNozzo, McGee. He usually snores when he's deep in meditation."

Ziva snorted and then asked, "Tony is well, Gibbs?"

"He's getting there Ziva. What's going on?"

"Cassie has assigned us to cold cases. We have been reviewing the report Tony prepared before. . . " and Ziva stopped, not wanted to give voice to what she had been about to say.

"Understood" Gibbs said.

"Boss, who's with Tony right now?" McGee asked.

"What, are you channeling Abby now, McGee?" Gibbs asked. "Tony's fine. He's asleep so I came in to finish up my report. I'm heading back there in a bit."

"That's good. Are we going to get to see him any time soon?" McGee asked, his concern for Tony making him brave.

"Soon McGee. They extubated him this morning; if everything goes well he should be moved out of ICU in a day or two. You'll probably get to see him by Sunday. That is, provided you actually get some work done today and tomorrow."

"On it Boss," McGee answered, sitting up straighter and opening the file on his desk.

Gibbs sat down at his desk and powered up his computer. He was halfway through his report when he felt something at the back of his neck. Turning around he found Ziva standing rigidly in front of his desk.

"I have been concerned about Tony. Would you tell him I wish him a speedy recovery?" she asked stiffly.

"Tell him yourself when you see him Ziva. Don't worry though; he knows that Ziva," he said giving her a small smile.

Ziva gave a tight smile and curt nod in reply and returned to her desk.

It only took Gibbs a few more minutes to finish the report. He saved it to his hard drive and emailed a copy to Vance. Then, gathering up a series of reports he needed to review, he stood and made ready to leave. Before he left, he turned and said to his team, "You did good work finding Lynch." He paused and then added, "And if you quote me on that to anyone else, I'll shoot you." With that said, he headed for the elevator, leaving two smiling agents in his wake.

Gibbs parked his car in the hospital lot, having picked it up when he was at headquarters. Pocketing his keys, he headed to get some coffee before going back up to see Tony. Standing in line, he realized that Karen would be back on duty. When it was his turn, he ordered her a coffee too, figuring they had something to celebrate.

Walking into the ICU he looked around for Karen. He spotted her, coming out of another patient's room, dressed in a lime green scrub shirt, decorated with female lions - complete with bright pink bows on their heads. As she got closer he could see that the top also had "I am woman, hear me roar" printed sporadically on it.

"Nice shirt," he said as he handed her a coffee.

"Why thank you. I'm pretty proud of my collection, although I'm thinking about letting Abby help me pick out some new ones," she teased.

"Don't know if skulls and crossbones are appropriate for the ICU," Gibbs laughed.

"Three points for you," Karen answered. "So, it looks like you had an exciting morning. I'm so glad Tony tolerated the extubation."

"Yeah, it was good to hear him speak."

"I'm still looking forward to that. He's been asleep since I came on duty." She paused and then said, "Gibbs, he's in pretty rough shape. The sedative has helped him breathe, but he's coughing a lot. His blood pressure's a little elevated, probably from the additional strain breathing on his own is placing on his body. When he wakes up, don't let him talk too much. We want to keep him as still as possible so that his lungs can fight off the infection of the pneumonia."

His gut clenched a little but he knew he should have expected this. Gibbs said, "No problem. I know how to shut Tony up," but he smiled at Karen and touched her shoulder lightly, to take away any sting from his words.

"Go on in and see him. He will probably sleep for a couple more hours," she said, answering his smile with her own.

When Gibbs got into Tony's room he found a couple of new additions. There was a huge box of Kleenex sitting on the table next to the CD player, and a large trash can had been placed below it. The can was already half full of discarded tissues, many of them tinged red with blood. Looking over at Tony, he was relieved to find him sleeping peacefully. His breathing sounded raspy, but it was good to know that Tony was doing it on his own. Gibbs turned the CD player back on, letting Sinatra's voice flood the room. Then sitting in the chair, he reached up and took Tony's hand. It felt different doing that now that he knew Tony could respond – slightly dangerous and somehow more significant.

"I'm back Tony. Hope you haven't run the nurses into the ground while I was gone," he said, although he knew Tony didn't really hear him. It felt good just to talk to him, even if it was only another one way conversation. "You just lie there and sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Gibbs looked at Tony for a long time, and then released his hand. Reaching for the shopping bag , he pulled out a crossword puzzle book, and prepared to wait.

Gibbs had been sitting in the chair long enough for his body to stiffen up. Putting down the puzzle he had just completed, he stood up and stretched his body. He was just lowering his arms, when he realized that Tony was looking at him.

"Hey there," Tony croaked.

"Afternoon sleepyhead," Gibbs said.

And then there was silence. They continued to look at each other, suddenly not knowing what to say. All the things they had both thought about over the last two days seemed too difficult to give voice to. Finally, Tony held up his hand again, in a gesture that had taken on a special significance for them both. Looking at the proffered hand, Gibbs reached over and placed it in his own. They both smiled, knowing that for now, words weren't necessary.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four:**

Their silent communication was interrupted when Tony started another bad spell of coughing. When it became clear that Tony wasn't going to be able to stop it, Gibbs had reached over and wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders. He had eased Tony up into a sitting position and was holding him by the time Karen arrived in the room.

"Pound on his back gently, Gibbs. It'll help loosen up the gunk in his lungs," she said as she got several tissues to wipe at Tony's mouth with.

"Don't want," more coughs, "back to sleep." Gasping for air as he pushed at Karen, "Please don't. . ." and any further attempt to communicate was stopped by the gut wrenching coughs.

"Tony, take small easy breaths," Karen said encouragingly, as she wiped away more of the bloody mucus Tony had expelled. "I'm not going to give you another sedative. Just try to relax."

Slowly the coughing stopped, leaving Tony panting and breathless.

"That was a bad one, but it was to be expected. You've been asleep a long time, and your body needed to readjust once you woke up. If you just lie still for a few minutes, your breathing will get a little better." Karen said, as she was busy wiping down Tony's face with a damp rag, all the while clucking reassuringly.

"Okay, let's get you back down onto the bed," Karen said, touching Gibbs' arm to get him to lower Tony back down. Gibbs found himself reluctant to let go of Tony. He knew that his arms were the only things holding Tony up. He had felt the moment during the coughing fit in which Tony had relinquished all control to him. What he really wanted was to pull Tony closer, to protect him with his own body.

That thought embarrassed Gibbs, and to compensate he said, a little too gruffly, "Lay back DiNozzo, help me out here." Even as the words left his mouth, he could feel Tony tense up.

"I'm good," Tony managed to say, trying to ease himself back on the bed.

"Let me get the pillows repositioned under your head," Karen said, reaching over to right the pillows which had slid down when Tony first started coughing.

"Thanks," Tony panted out, as he let himself sink back, allowing the pillows to support his head.

"Well, it's definitely nice to hear your voice," Karen said, smiling at him. "How about I go get some ice chips and we try soothing your throat?" and she turned to leave after Tony nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, Boss," Tony managed to say, once he had turned towards Gibbs, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Sorry for what Tony? You've got nothing to apologize for," Gibbs said, not understanding what could be bothering Tony.

"For worrying you, letting you down, being weak. It's all my fault, deserve this," Tony gasped out, turning his head away from Gibbs, the effort of speaking draining him completely.

Gibbs was still trying to figure out what to say to that, upset that Tony could so easily think the worst about himself, when Karen came back into the room carrying a cup of ice. Giving them both a quick glance and noticing the tension in the room, she began an upbeat, inane monologue, determined to change the mood.

"I had been wondering what you would sound like. I had all kinds of different voices lined up in my head. There was the melodic tenor voice, but I didn't think that really suited you, a little to sedate. Not edgy enough. Then there was the deep bass voice, the kind you can feel all the way down to your toes, but I didn't expect that either. I think that Gibbs might be able to work that voice though, what do you think?" she asked, trying to draw Tony into the game and continued when she was rewarded with a small, half smile. "I ruled out the nasal, whiny soprano kind of voice immediately. Not at all right for a special agent. I'll save that for the next patient who's an accountant. Nope, I'm very pleased to inform you, Mr. Tony DiNozzo, that I think your voice sounds just right for you – a nice, pleasant baritone, just enough muscle without being too overpowering. Of course, I'm looking forward to hearing it in more that one word at a time increments. So how about opening up, and let's see if some ice helps." And she held the cup up to Tony's lips and tilted in some ice.

Tony sucked on the ice, allowing it to drip down his throat. "S'good," he said.

"Let's try just a little more. I don't want you to drink too much. We don't want you to get sick to your stomach," she said, as she lifted the cup back up to him.

After Tony had swallowed a little more ice, Karen went to work rearranging his covers and making sure that all of his IV lines and monitors were still attached properly. "I know Gibbs must be glad that you can speak again. I get the feeling he's not a big talker. Bet he'll be glad to have some help with the conversation." As she said this she glanced over at Gibbs. He was still standing beside Tony's bed, motionless. He looked lost in his own thoughts, not really registering on what was being said in the room. Tony was throwing occasional oblique glances his way, clearly bothered by something, and she wondered what she had interrupted when she had come back into the room.

"Well, I'd better go check on everyone else. I'll be back later and maybe we can actually chat then," she said, giving Tony an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Don't talk too much; you need to get some rest," and she gathered up the soiled rag, and left the room.

That left Tony and Gibbs alone, frozen in the silence that had suddenly become oppressive. Finally Gibbs broke the mood slightly by moving back to his usual side of the bed. Looking at Tony he reached down and pulled his hand into his own, ignoring the resistance he felt.

"Look at me," he said, and waited for Tony to comply before he continued.

"Tony, about what you said earlier. I don't want you apologizing for anything."

"Got it, don't apologize, sign of weakness," Tony croaked out, offering up a smile that didn't ring true; his eyes looking guarded and tight.

"Not because it's a sign of weakness, Tony. Because it's not necessary. You didn't do anything I might not have done myself." He waited until Tony was looking him straight in the eye before he continued. "As for this being what you deserve, that's just bullshit. No one deserves this, least of all you." He watched Tony for his reaction, pleased when Tony's face seemed to soften a little. Then he remembered something Karen had said to him yesterday.

"Tony, you could never let me down. I'm proud of you. You really are irreplaceable to me." The look on Tony's face told him that Karen had been right. That was what Tony had needed to hear. Tony's green eyes shone bright and this time his smile was luminescent. His body relaxed completely, almost melting into the bed, leaving him looking completely spent and Gibbs realized just how much the facade Tony had been wearing had cost him.

"So are you Boss," Tony said softly.

"You need to get some sleep Tony," Gibbs said, worried about what he had just seen.

"Don't want to, it's all I've been doing, want to be awake," Tony answered, although the fatigue in his voice belied his words. "We need to talk," looking up at Gibbs.

"No, we don't, not right now. Not when you're in pain and so tired you can't even think straight." Gibbs paused as Tony coughed, waiting to see if he was building to another bad round. Once it seemed Tony was okay, he continued. "It'll keep Tony. You're not going anywhere and neither am I," Gibbs assured him gently.

"I'm…"

"_Don't_ tell me you're fine, because you're _not_," Gibbs said, interrupting him. "Tony this conversation has been waiting for a long time. It'll keep for a few more days. We'll get to it Tony, don't worry. Don't think we could avoid it even if we tried anymore." Then to distract him, he said, "Why don't you help me with my crossword for right now. I'll read off the question and you can help me figure out the word?"

"_Fine_," Tony answered, smirking just a little at Gibbs over his choice of word and Gibbs' reaction to it. Tony gave Gibbs a smile, and then he released his hand so that he could sit down in the chair.

Pulling out the puzzle book, Gibbs turned to a new crossword. "Okay, here we go. Number one across, 'word before blocker or testing', four letters."

"Beta," came the answer from the bed.

"Maybe, let's see what one down is. 'Place for a rubber duck,' seven letters. That's bathtub. Looks like beta works. Good job, Tony. Let's try another one and see if that was just a fluke. Okay, five across, 'Chapstick target.'" When Tony didn't answer right away, Gibbs looked over at him.

Tony's eyes were starting to close involuntarily. Not wanting to do anything to stop that, Gibbs just continued talking. "I think that would be lips, don't you? I'll just pencil that in and we can see what five down is."

When Gibbs looked over again, Tony's eyes were shut tight. He sat listening as Tony's labored breathing deepened. "That's it Tony. You just go to sleep," he said softly, not wanting to risk waking him.

Karen came in a while later, ostensibly to check on Tony, but Gibbs sensed she had more on her mind. "I see he's fallen back to sleep," she said, watching him as she tested Gibbs' mood.

"Yep, he was pretty wiped out," he answered in his normal voice, waiting to see what she would say next.

"It's pretty hard to think clearly when you're as sick as he is. He's likely to say some things that don't make the most sense, or aren't really what he means," she offered up.

"I got that Karen. Although it took me a bit; guess I'm a little slow on the uptake."

"No, you're just exhausted too. Be careful, that makes for a dangerous combination," she cautioned.

"Oh yeah, I hear you. It's okay, Karen. You don't need to worry; but thanks."

"No problem, the advice is free, but the nursing's going to cost," she said with a smile as she took her leave, happy to hear him chuckling behind her.

By the time Tony woke up again, Gibbs had abandoned the puzzle, and was reading the Clancy book.

"Boss?" he asked in a gravelly voice, speaking before his eyes were even open.

"I'm here Tony. Do you want some ice?" he asked as he stood up to get it.

"Pizza, want pizza," Tony managed to croak.

"Little early for that," Gibbs laughed. "Think that'll have to wait until you've been weaned off the yummy looking grey goo they're pumping into you."

Tony laughed too, but it transformed into a cough.

"Easy Tony. Try to take small breaths. Don't let it get out of control." Gibbs reached over to the table and got a tissue. He leaned over Tony to wipe away the bloody secretions; looking at Tony carefully to make sure he hadn't missed any.

Tony's shaky hand reached up and touched Gibbs' face. "Thank you," he said, and Gibbs knew he wasn't referring to the tissue.

"You're welcome Tony," Gibbs smiled, returning the touch, pleased that half spoken meanings seemed to be working for them.

"For being here," Tony attempted to clarify.

"I know Tony. There's no where else I'd rather be right now."

Tony smiled, even though he was trying to suppress a cough.

Gibbs straightened up, and grabbed the cup of ice off the table. He held it up for Tony and said, "Take a small sip, Tony. It'll help," and was relieved when the coughing seemed to abate.

After catching his breath, Tony asked, "How's the crossword coming?"

"Wasn't as much fun without help. Put it away for later and started reading a Tom Clancy book Ducky left for me." When he got no response he looked over at Tony, wondering if he was falling asleep again so quickly. Tony lay there looking at him, his top teeth worrying at his abused lower lip. Gibbs could tell that something was bothering him, but that he either didn't know how to deal with it or was afraid. "Do you need something, Tony," he asked gently.

"Boss, can you tell me everything that's wrong with me?" Tony asked hesitantly.

Gibbs sighed; he had wondered when they were going to get to this. "Are you going to get upset?" he asked.

Tony shook his head. "Already know it's bad. Can't be worse than my imagination."

Gibbs wasn't so sure about that. The list of injuries still appalled him and he'd had several days to get used to the idea. For a brief second he considered glossing over a lot of it, but knew that Tony wouldn't thank him for that later. "Before I tell you I want you to remember something. The doctors are all really pleased with your progress. They expect you to make a full recovery, so even if it sounds scary, you need to keep that in mind." He waited until Tony nodded his understanding and then he began.

"You were in the warehouse for three nights. When we got there, you were on the ground, tied to a chair. Figure you'd been like that for most of the time. Lynch had beat you with his fists and a bat." Gibbs paused a second. "You still okay Tony?" he asked. When Tony nodded, he reached out and took Tony's hand, although he wasn't sure which of them he was truly trying to comfort.

"You were barely breathing by the time we found you. Once you got to the hospital they took you directly to surgery. You had a tear in your aorta, and it was causing bleeding in the walls of your heart. They had to shock you twice, but they got it fixed. That's what the bandages on your chest are from. Still okay?" he asked, because Tony had tightened his fingers around Gibbs' hand when he heard his heart had stopped twice.

"You've got a broken leg they had to pin back together. It'll be fine but probably require some therapy. You also have some broken ribs, a concussion and an impressive collection of cuts and bruises all over your body, but they'll heal." He stopped there, not really knowing what to say next.

"And pneumonia?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, you've got pneumonia. Brad thinks you developed it from a combination of the bruising to your lungs from the beating and the cold, damp warehouse floor you spent three nights on. You're on the downhill side of it, though. The time you spent on the ventilator has helped with that Tony. They caught it almost immediately and you've been on antibiotics for the last three days. Your temperature is down, and they don't seem to think the mucus and blood is excessive. It shouldn't get any worse, only better."

"My heart?"

"The doctors say it'll be fine. Once the suturing heals, everything there will work as good as new."

Gibbs waited for the next question, but it never came. Tony lay there, eyes wide, but saying nothing. He could practically see Tony's brain working. He didn't know if he should say something or not, so he decided to wait. Finally Tony spoke.

"Why?"

Gibbs was confused. "Why what, Tony?"

"Why'd he do it?"

Gibbs realized Tony was asking about Lynch. "He's a sick S.O.B. Tony. All juiced up on crack; couldn't think straight if he tried. He was in on the embezzlement scheme you were investigating. When you came to the warehouse he just flipped. Went completely crazy, and his partner, Nichols, just cleaned up after him and left you in a bloody heap to die." He stopped, knowing his anger had seeped back into his words, and that he had said more than he had intended. Nichols actions angered him worse than Lynch's – they were premeditated. Nichols didn't have drugs as an excuse, only greed; Nichols had disgraced his uniform.

"But you got them." Tony offered.

"Cassie's team got them, with help from McGee and Ziva," Gibbs said bitterly.

"Doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't matter. They need to pay for what they did to you," Gibbs said vehemently.

"Doesn't matter who got them," Tony said, guessing correctly that Gibbs was bothered by the fact that he hadn't been able to dispense a little personal justice.

Gibbs was interrupted as he started to reply by the arrival of Dr. Pitt.

"Hey Tony," Brad said as he entered the room.

Gibbs made to move out of the way, but Brad waved him off. "Stay where you are Gibbs. I'm just checking in to see how it's going. You look better than last time I saw you, Tony. Never would have thought Gibbs would make a good nursemaid."

"Man of hidden talents," Tony replied. "So?" he then asked, expectantly.

"So, you really are doing better. Your oxygen levels have improved slightly, since this morning. They're not where they need to be, but you're making progress. If everything keeps going this well, I might even let you try eating a little jello tomorrow. I remember how much you like it."

"All heart," Tony answered, grimacing as he spoke. "I want pizza."

"Don't we all? You're a ways away from that right now. Let's get you eating soft foods and then we can move you onto a regular floor. Once you're there the rest of your team can come visit and we'll be a lot closer to getting you out of here. Gibbs'll even be able to go home and get some decent clothes. I hate to see him dressed like that, makes him subject to the world's ridicule."

Gibbs looked down at himself. He laughed, having forgotten that he had put the OSU sweatshirt back on after his shower.

Tony's answer was to give Brad the middle finger.

"See, I knew you were doing better," Brad said.

"Seriously though Tony. You just need to sleep and let the medicine and your body work on healing you. Time is going to be your best friend on this. Try not to talk too much; I know that's asking a lot of you, but it only aggravates the coughing and your throat. You'll have lots of time to talk yourself silly later. I'm going to have them do another chest x-ray in the morning and we'll see what your lungs look like after working on their own for a day. The results will pretty much dictate what we do next. I'll see you again after I've looked them over."

When he paused, Tony nodded and smiled at him. "Thanks Brad, for everything."

"I think it's the broken leg, Tony. Makes me feel guilty." Brad teased, and waved his goodbyes.

"That settles it Tony, always knew you talked too much. Now it's official." Gibbs looked over at Tony, who had a self satisfied little smile on his face. "What, what are you thinking?"

Tony had been thinking about the fact that Gibbs had all but given up calling him DiNozzo. He'd been thinking about how nice it was to hear Gibbs say 'Tony'. Not wanting to jinx it, he merely pantomimed zipping his mouth closed and smirked up at Gibbs.

"Okay Tony, have it your way for now," getting more irritated when Tony's smile widened at his response. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. Tony could work him better than anyone else. He wondered for a brief second about what he was getting himself into, but let that thought go immediately. Deciding two could play Tony's game, he went over to the CD player, put in the Miles Davis, and settled himself back in the chair. He picked up his book, waved it at Tony, and resumed reading. He couldn't resist sneaking a peak at Tony, satisfied when he saw the startled look of outrage sweep across Tony's face.

Gibbs found himself looking covertly up at Tony after each paragraph. Tony was looking over Gibbs shoulder, out the door of the room, his fingers beating in time with the music. It had now become a challenge between them – neither wanting to be the one to speak first.

The game continued for quite a while, the only sounds in the room being the music, the hum of the machines, and Tony's breathing. Finally Gibbs heard what he had been waiting for.

"Boss?"

"Yes?" Gibbs asked.

"What other music do we have?"

Apparently he wasn't going to learn what Tony had been thinking about, but he contented himself with the knowledge that he had won this round of the game. He dug the CD's out of the bag and read the titles off to Tony. "_Nice and Easy_ and _From the Heart_ by Sinatra, _Ascension _by Coltrane, _True Stories_ by The Talking Heads, Gnarls Barkley's _St. Elsewhere_, and the Miles Davis we're listening to now. Who the hell names a record after a TV show?" he wondered aloud.

"We'll listen to it tomorrow and then you'll know. It's a little late in the day for that now. Would you put in _Nice and Easy _Boss?" coughing a little as he spoke.

"Sure Tony. Want to help me do a crossword?" Gibbs was feeling magnanimous after having won their game.

"Maybe in a little bit. Brad was right. I really am tired. Just going to lay here and rest for a bit." That admission had not been easy, and Tony was glad when Gibbs didn't comment on it. Instead, Tony closed his eyes and lay still, trying to stifle the coughs his body kept forcing out. The feel of something pressing against his mouth forced his eyes back open. Looking up, he saw Gibbs gently dabbing at his mouth, wiping away the effects of the coughs. Tony settled for smiling his thanks, and drifted off to sleep.

_Tony was chained naked to the wall in a room under a street. He could hear cars rushing about over his head. His breathing was impaired by the gag in his mouth and the lack of oxygen in the room and he could tell he had been drugged with something. Blood dripped from his face onto his shoulder. Bones and skulls surrounded him, and rats waited against the wall, for their chance to get at their next meal. He pulled on the chains, gasping for breaths, looking for any sign of weakness in his bonds. Suddenly Jeffrey White simply materialized in the room. He walked over to Tony and placed a hand over the gag on his mouth, prodding at it with a finger. Then in a rude parody of a lover, he ran both of his hands slowly down Tony's body, stopping when he got to Tony's crotch. Roughly wrapping his fingers around Tony's cock, he jerked at him. Against Tony's will he could feel himself hardening. "That's it Tony, I own you now. Come for me Tony." White commanded. Then he leaned in and licked at the blood which was all over Tony's face as he continued stroking him. Tony tried to pull away and when that didn't work he cried out for Gibbs, but got no answer._

Gibbs was alerted to the nightmare sooner this time, thanks to Tony's ability to speak. At first Tony was just coughing softly, but that devolved into moans and whimpers. Gibbs was on his feet in an instant, automatically reaching out to grab Tony's hands, attempting to still them as they thrashed by his side. "Tony, wake up!" he cried. Tony buried his head in the pillow, as if trying to get away from something. He heard Tony call his name and then suddenly, an alarm Gibbs hadn't heard before, went off. Karen came rushing into the room.

"He's not breathing Gibbs. Sit him up quickly. Pound on his back."

Gibbs yanked him up, doing as he was told, all the while pleading with Tony to wake up.

Suddenly Tony took a loud gasping breath and his eyes flew open. He looked wildly around the room, as if searching for something. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like he couldn't get any air.

"Tony, calm down. It was only a dream," Tony heard Gibbs saying. Slowly his eyes refocused and he saw Gibbs looking at him, alarm written all over his face.

"m'okay," he managed before the coughing took over.

It took Gibbs and Karen several minutes to quell the latest fit. Once it seemed that Tony's breathing had normalized, and all the remnants of the coughing had been cleaned away, Gibbs gently helped Tony lie back down, as he constantly reassured Tony softly. Once Karen had left the room, he took Tony's tense hand and asked, "Tony, why don't you tell me about the dream? Maybe it will help."

Tony's face flushed and he looked away. "I don't remember it," came the muffled reply.

Gibbs knew he was lying, but didn't think it would do any good to call him on it. Instead, he said, "That's okay, Tony. I'll just sit here and hold your hand while you go back to sleep. You don't need to worry about anything; I'll be right here." And he fell into silence.

They remained that way for a long time – Tony clinging stiffly to Gibbs' hand, saying nothing – Gibbs offering up silent but constant support. Finally Gibbs knew Tony had fallen back asleep. The pressure on his hand relaxed, and Tony's breathing changed into a slower, deeper rhythm. Reaching over, he ran his hand across Tony's face, petting Tony's hair softly in an attempt to offer further comfort. Gibbs realized that the dreams were going to have to be addressed. The fact that Tony had refused to discuss them alerted him to that fact. Tony very rarely directly lied. In his gut he knew that Tony couldn't fully heal until he came to terms with what was haunting his sleep. Sighing deeply, Gibbs traced his fingers over Tony's face once more, and then reached back for the chair, ready for another long night.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

It had been a long night and Tony had slept through most of it. Respiratory therapists came and went, IV bags drained away and were replaced, dressings were inspected and reapplied, Tony was sponge washed and changed and still he slept. Ducky stopped in for a very brief visit, promising to come back in the morning. Gibbs went on occasional forays for coffee and food, returning once to discover that Karen had the janitor remove the stiff, plastic chair and drag in a recliner from the visitor's lounge while he had been gone. And Gibbs had sat, afraid to sleep, afraid to leave Tony alone for too long to his dreams.

When morning came, Tony awoke feeling slightly better. He immediately sought Gibbs out, not surprised to find him sitting next to the bed. He briefly wondered where the recliner had come from, and then decided it didn't matter.

"Hey Boss," he said, trying out his voice; pleased to discover that it seemed a bit stronger, although a little rough with sleep. He released the coughs he had been holding in, hoping that would clear his throat a bit.

"Morning Tony," Gibbs said, standing and moving closer to the bed.

Tony looked up at Gibbs, not liking the dark circles he saw under his eyes.

"Did you get any sleep?" Tony asked.

"I'm good Tony. Don't worry about me. Not the one in a bed. How do you feel?" Gibbs asked.

"Better; I feel better. It's a little easier to breathe I think," Tony answered. "Suppose they'll be in soon to check up on me."

"You can count on it. They'll take new x-rays, pull blood and all that other good stuff they've been doing every morning. Behave yourself and they might get you that jello Brad promised."

"Can barely wait. It all sounds like so much fun. At least this time I can answer their questions. It was so hard just lying there, not able to ask any questions of my own." Tony paused, to cough a little.

Gibbs picked up a cup off the table and poured in some ice from the small pitcher that sat beside it. "Here Tony, take a little ice," and he reached over to help Tony with the glass.

"I got it," Tony said, as he reached up his own hand, tired of being helpless and dependent on others. He took the cup and held it, slightly unsteadily at first, to his lips. "Can I sit up more?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, Tony. Let me go ask the nurse."

"Never mind, it'll keep. Just want to feel more normal," and he took another sip of the melting ice. "Um, Boss?" Tony paused until he had Gibbs' attention. "What's going on a work? Is Vance okay with you being here? Don't want to get you in trouble."

"Vance if fine with it Tony. He gave me some of my personal days. I don't ever use them anyway. He wants you better and back at work just as much as anyone else."

"Doubt that," Tony said, not forgetting it was Vance that had exiled him to sea as a way of punishing him for Jenny's death.

Gibbs knew this was an opportunity to address some of what had been eating at Tony for the past few months. "Tony, you're my best agent and Vance knows that. You wouldn't be senior if that wasn't true. Vance had to send you all away while they tried to isolate the mole. It also allowed him remind me that he was the boss. It had nothing to do with L.A. You need to believe that Tony. What happened to Jenny wasn't your fault. It was a long time coming and she chose how it was going to end. You and Ziva were just pawns in that mess. There was no way you were going to win out over Jenny and Mike. They had all the information and you didn't have any. It ended about as well as it could. You were just collateral damage, in all of it."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"And it may never feel different, but you need to understand that how something looks and how it really is aren't always the same thing, Tony. _You_ should know that," Gibbs said as gently as possible.

"That true, Boss?" Tony asked, looking meaningfully at him.

Gibbs knew that the subject had just been changed. "Yeah, Tony. That's really true," offering a small smile to let Tony know that he was aware of what was being asked.

Tony held his eyes for a few moments, and then just nodded in response.

The morning sped up after that. Dr. Anderson and his troupe of consulting doctors arrived and ran their tests. Ducky brought clean clothes and well wishes and actually got to see Tony for a brief moment. Tony was given some jello, which he grumbled about, but scarfed down none the less. A respiratory therapist arrived with some kind of hand held breathing machine and showed Tony some exercises he was to do to strengthen his lungs. That resulted in the first bad coughing fit of the morning, although no one but Gibbs seemed upset by it. Finally lunchtime arrived and along with it, Brad Pitt.

Tony was beginning to fade. The morning had been long and he had refused to let himself fall asleep. He had just about given in when Brad came into the room.

"Well Tony. Looks like everything is going well. I see you even ate some jello with no adverse effects," he said in place of a greeting. "Your chest x-ray looked even better today. You've got the pneumonia on the run. I'm going to recommend that they cut back on the intravenous feeding and give you a little more soft food today. It that goes well, I don't see why you can't move to a regular room tomorrow. Would you like that? It'll have a TV and everything."

Tony was beyond happy. "I could stand that," he answered. "I can use the television to catch Gibbs up on popular culture."

Brad studied Tony and then looked over at Gibbs, noting the fatigue. "Looks to me like he could stand to catch up on some sleep first. Why don't you both take a nap, and when you wake up I'll have the nurse bring in some food. If you don't get sick to your stomach we'll try even more later. Tony, you really are doing great. I've got to get back to Bethesda soon, but I'll call in for a report this afternoon. I'll probably see you tomorrow."

As Brad left the room, Gibbs told Tony he needed to use the facilities, and he hurried out after Brad. He caught up with him just before Pitt could get on the elevator.

"Brad," Gibbs called to get his attention. "Did Karen write up what happened last night while Tony was sleeping?"

"You mean the nightmare?" Brad asked.

"Yeah. He stopped breathing for a moment." Gibbs said, giving voice to what had kept him awake all night.

"Oh, so that's it. It's not all that uncommon during a nightmare, Gibbs. We're just not hooked up to machines that send out alarms when we do it. People usually start breathing again right away. It's a concern with Tony because he has spent days relying on something else to breathe for him. That slowed down his natural response to inhale and start the breathing process back up. It'll correct itself in time. We'll keep monitoring his breathing at all times for the next several days, even when he's out of ICU. You don't need to sit up and watch him sleep. We're not going to let him die, Gibbs."

"Yeah, I know that, Brad," Gibbs huffed, feeling silly now, and not liking it.

"Tony needs you well rested. I know he seems a lot better today, but he's still really sick. There are going to be set backs, and you've elected yourself as the person who's going to hold him together when that happens. It won't do if you're both dead on your feet, so to speak."

"I hear you," Gibbs said, and he held his hand out to Brad.

"Glad of that," said Brad as they shook. "Take care Gibbs. I'll see you tomorrow," and he got into the elevator that had once again stopped on the floor.

Gibbs gave a little wave and headed back to ICU. When he got to Tony's room, he found him sound asleep. After watching him for a few minutes, Gibbs sighed and sat in the chair. He knew that Brad was right, about his need for sleep and the responsibility he had taken as his own. Sighing again, he pushed back on the seat, reclining it, and fell fast asleep.

They both slept until late in the afternoon. It was Karen that woke them up. She arrived in the room, armed with a tray for Tony. "Rise and shine," she trilled. "The gravy train has arrived," and she nudged things out of the way so that she could set the tray on the table. Tony woke with a start, as if surprised that he had been asleep, and immediately frowned. Gibbs wondered what was wrong but didn't get a chance to ask. Once Tony was sufficiently awake, Karen uncovered the tray to reveal a cup of chicken broth and a small bowl of sherbet and surprisingly, a sandwich and coffee for Gibbs.

"Well, it's an improvement over jello," Tony said, as he inspected the offering.

"Something hot and something cold. It's a winning combination, Tony," Karen teased. "Do you want me to help you with it?" she asked.

"I'll do it," said Gibbs, who was now fully awake. "I know you've got other things you need to be doing."

"Try not to spill on him Gibbs," she said as she handed him a spoon and the cup with the broth. "I don't want to have to explain how he got burned," and, always pleased to have the last word on anything, she hurried out of the room before he could respond.

Tony was laughing when Gibbs looked over at him. "Open up DiNozzo. Let's get this done."

"On it Boss. Careful you don't dribble. Wouldn't want to see Nurse Karen take you down," he quipped and then promptly opened up his mouth like a baby bird. Rolling his eyes, Gibbs brought a spoonful up to Tony's mouth.

The food tasted wonderful to Tony, and he was sorry when it was gone. He hadn't realized how much he had missed having real food, and although broth and sherbet wouldn't ordinarily be his pick, he decided they were now his new favorite foods.

After Tony was done eating they settled down for the long evening. Gibbs pulled out a crossword and they worked on it together, companionably talking about nothing of consequence in between puzzle questions. They had cut way down on the sedatives they had been giving Tony since the breathing tube had been removed and he was much more alert. Tony had a couple of nasty rounds of coughing but seemed to be recovering more quickly each time. Karen seemed pleased with the way his body tolerated the food, and Gibbs was just glad that everything seemed more relaxed that evening.

As the evening wore on Gibbs noticed that Tony was tiring. He suggested several times that maybe Tony should try to get some sleep, but each time Tony brushed the idea away. By eight o'clock Tony had stopped trying to answer any of the questions in the crossword. Gibbs was aware that it was taking all of Tony's energy just to remain awake.

"Tony," when he got no response, he said, "Tony, you with me?" and he waited for Tony to respond in the affirmative. "Tony, you really should rest for awhile," he suggested again.

"Nah, I'm good Gibbs. Read me that question again?"

"Tony, I haven't read a crossword question out loud for the last twenty minutes. Do you want to tell me where your head was at?" Gibbs challenged.

Tony panicked for a second. He realized he'd been caught. Telling Gibbs that he had been trying to fight off sleep because he was afraid of the nightmares was not an option for Tony. He didn't want Gibbs to know how the images from the dreams kept haunting him, making him feel soiled and guilty. Tony wasn't a novice to nightmares. It had been an on again/off again problem with him for years. But somehow these dreams seemed worse. They preyed on all of his unresolved issues and they kept coming, night after night. There wasn't anything he could do to escape them while he was stuck in a bed, so he was trying hard not to give them a chance to return. He could only see two choices: he could lie to Gibbs about what he had been thinking about or he could try to answer with just enough of the truth that Gibbs wouldn't get suspicious and would let it go. He opted for the second choice.

"I've just been thinking about how nice it is to be alert again. Sorry, guess I wasn't being very good company."

"That's okay Tony. You were out of it for a long time. I'm sure it's a good feeling to be doing better," but even as he said that, Gibbs didn't think that sounded right. He couldn't really see Tony meditating about the merits of being conscious. He was also aware that it had taken Tony a bit too long to answer him. Any other time he would have called Tony on it, but he was afraid of upsetting him right now. He decided he'd just have to let this slide for now.

"You know, I really could use a nap, Tony. I didn't sleep all that well last night. Think I missed the old hard plastic chair," hoping that a joke would snap Tony out of whatever was bothering him, and knowing he was not above laying on a guilt trip to get Tony to do what he wanted.

"Sorry Boss. I knew you were tired. You're right, a little sleep would be good for both of us," Tony said, feeling guilty and also seeing no way out of the situation.

"Don't apologize, Tony. Just close your eyes so we can both get some sleep." Gibbs said and he reclined the chair to punctuate his request.

"Night Boss."

"Night, Tony," and Gibbs closed his own eyes, hoping Tony would follow his example.

Tony lay in the bed, listening to Gibbs' breathing even out, knowing he was asleep. That didn't help his quest to stay awake. He tried playing word games with himself, free associating a word and then trying to come up with twenty rhyming words. Eventually, however, the game backfired. Coming up with the rhyming words became like counting sheep, and Tony was reluctantly pulled into sleep.

The nightmare overtook Tony in the early hours of the morning. Like the one from the night before, it was inhabited with people from Tony's past and featured Tony being tortured and then abused. This time it was Jenny using his body, while Gibbs looked on in disgust. Unlike the previous nights, Tony managed to rouse himself from the dream, without setting off any alarms. He kept the coughing that ensued as quiet as possible, and was relieved when no nurse came rushing in and Gibbs didn't wake up. Once he had his breathing under control, he spent the rest of the night watching Gibbs sleep and working on staying awake. In the morning, when Gibbs started to stir, Tony closed his eyes, tried to even out his breath and pretended to be asleep.

When a nurse came in to tell Gibbs that they wanted to try getting Tony to eat something, Gibbs called over to him, "Tony, it's morning. Wake up," and then he waited to see if Tony responded.

Tony let his eyes open, and took a few moments, as if he were adjusting. Then he looked over at Gibbs and wished him a good morning.

"Nurse says you've got to eat again, Tony. They'll be in with the food in a second," Gibbs informed him, satisfied when Tony nodded his understanding.

Tony managed to choke down the watery oatmeal presented to him. Even insisting that he be allowed to feed himself, informing Gibbs that he was a big boy. He was grateful for the cranberry juice that accompanied the meal, finding it much easier to swallow.

Again general tidying up of his body and dressings occurred; the doctors arrived to question and examine him. This time however, Dr. Anderson stayed after the others had left.

"I've got good news," he told Tony and Gibbs. "You're getting booted out of ICU Tony. We're moving you to the pulmonary care unit this afternoon. We're going to send you down for a couple of CAT scans first, so we can get a better look at things, and then you'll get moved to the new room from there. The scans will take a couple of hours, so that will give you some time to do what ever you need to do Gibbs."

"That's great," Gibbs said, looking over at Tony for his reaction.

Tony's smile looked a little forced and brittle Gibbs thought, but figured it must be because of the impending CAT scans. Everyone knew they were no fun. Before he could give it much thought, Nurse Maria arrived in the room, and announced, "I understand we're loosing our two favorite men this morning. I'll make sure that the all of the personal things get transferred to the new room if you like," she offered.

"That'd be great. I'm going to go home for a bit while Tony's having the tests run. What's the new room number?" Gibbs asked, and made a mental note of the answer.

Everything ramped up after that. People seemed to be scurrying in and out of the room continually. Gibbs had one brief second alone with Tony, when he was able to squeeze his hand and express his pleasure with Tony's improvement. Tony had smiled warmly at him but was interrupted before he could reply but yet another technician coming in to adjust something.

"Go on Gibbs," Tony said. "Go home, take a shower, and do what you need to do. I'm sure not going to be lonely if you go."

"You sure, Tony? I can stay until they're ready to do the scans if you want?" Gibbs offered.

"Not necessary. Go on, get." Tony insisted.

So Gibbs complied. On his way to and from his house he called people to let them know about Tony's progress and to check on what his team had accomplished the day before. He assured Abby she could come for a visit that evening before her bowling game, and put off McGee and Ziva's visit until the next day. Before going back to the hospital he stopped at his favorite diner and treated himself to a breakfast so laden with cholesterol that the mere thought of it would have caused Ducky to have a heart attack, telling himself that it was a celebration. Then he picked up a coffee and headed back to check out Tony's new room.

When Gibbs got up to the pulmonary floor he discovered that the word was already out about Tony's improvement. Bouquets of flowers, helium balloons and the occasional stuffed animal were strewn around the room, and he was greeted by a tall, dark haired young nurse who was lugging in a large potted cactus, which he was amused to see was from Vance. Gibbs wondered how the flowers could have gotten there so soon. Tony was not in the room yet, the nurse told him, but would be soon. She introduced herself as Susan, and said she was a good friend of Karen's, so she already knew a little about them. She also told him that visiting hours were from ten until eight, but that Dr. Anderson had suspended them for Gibbs. When she teased him about preferential treatment he knew they were going to get along just fine. Gibbs looked around the room more carefully and was surprised to see that it was a single. He asked Susan about it.

"Dr. Pitt ordered it. He said that with the pneumonia it was too risky to have Mr. DiNozzo in a room with someone else. It's a good thing, too, from the look of things. There wouldn't be enough room for anyone else in here," she said in her pleasant voice, which was tinged with a slight southern accent.

Gibbs had to acknowledge the truth of her words. Between all the machinery that sat waiting for Tony and the offerings of best wishes sent by all of their co-workers, there was very little spare room. He spotted Bert sitting by the window, surrounded by floral arrangements. He wandered over to look at the tags on the flowers sitting on the windowsill, curious about who they were from, but before he got too far Tony arrived, surrounded by a small army of hurrying people. There were people pushing the bed, others dragging along the poles for the IV's, and yet another pushing a portable oxygen generator machine. It all presented a rude reminder to Gibbs that Tony was, in fact, still very sick.

It took them about fifteen minutes to attach Tony to all the waiting equipment, draw what seemed like a gallon of blood, clear his airways, and adjust his dressings. When they were finished, they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

"Well, that was quite a production," Gibbs said to Tony when they were finally alone.

"Yeah, at least I was the star," Tony answered, smiling over at Gibbs. "This time you just got to be the sidekick."

"That's an okay place with me," Gibbs said as he moved closer to the bed. When he got next to the bed he was surprised by how tired Tony looked. The strain of the move had clearly gotten to him, and dark circles were accenting the bruises which had already surrounded his eyes.

"You look like shit, Tony," he blurted, kicking himself even as he spoke.

"Well, I do have pneumonia and I died twice a couple of days ago," Tony answered, clearly determined to keep it light.

Gibbs smiled at him, glad for the reprieve, and asked, "Have you looked around the room yet? You could open your own florist shop."

"What can I say, the fans adore me," but he was stopped from saying more when coughs ripped through him.

Gibbs once again wrapped his arm around Tony to help him sit up. Holding him with one hand he patted Tony on the back with the other. When Tony was done, Gibbs looked around for a box of tissues, which he found sitting on a table right next to the head of the bed. Reaching out with his free hand he grabbed one and wiped away the mucus on Tony's mouth. When he was finished, he realized that Tony was trembling slightly. He looked at Tony, taking in his pale face, and eased him back onto the bed.

"Think you need some beauty sleep," he said, knowing Tony was on his last leg.

"I'll be okay in a second. Just need to catch my breath," Tony disagreed. "Tell me who the stuff is from Boss?" he asked, hoping that would distract Gibbs.

Throwing Tony a look, but choosing not to argue, Gibbs went back to the window and started reading the cards out loud. When he finished with the ones on the sill, he moved on the gifts on the small tables in the room. By the time he was finished, he had named almost half of the people who worked in the bullpen, since several people had gone together on gifts.

"Nice of them," he offered, as he walked back over to the bed. Tony was sitting with a bemused look on his face. "Why so puzzled?" Gibbs asked.

"Just surprised that so many people thought about me and then did this," Tony said.

"Why wouldn't they Tony? You've helped everyone at work at one time or another, and you're a pretty likeable guy," Gibbs said, again bothered by the fact that Tony didn't get how others looked at him. Why did Tony think so poorly of himself?

"Yeah, whatever," Tony said, clearly embarrassed and wanting to end the conversation. "So did our tunes and puzzles make it?" he asked, not too subtly changing the subject.

Gibbs located them on the side table next to the bed and had just sat down on the bedside chair, preparing to work a puzzle with Tony, when Nurse Susan arrived with a tray containing more broth and a cup of ice cream this time. After introducing herself to Tony and being instructed to refer to him as such, she set the food down on a rolling table and pushed it in front of him and then took her leave. Remembering Tony's glee over the food last night Gibbs expected the ice cream to be an even bigger hit.

"Abs said she was coming by later this afternoon or early it the evening. Guess she's bowling with the sisters tonight," he told Tony. "McGee and Ziva will be here tomorrow for a visit."

"That's great Boss. I miss everyone," he said, as he dragged the spoon through the soup, not really eating it.

"Thought it was appropriate that Vance sent a cactus," Gibbs joked, watching Tony play with the food.

"Always said he was a prick," was Tony's rejoinder, as he had moved on to the ice cream and was busily engaged in smashing it down in the bowl with the back of the spoon.

Finally, Gibbs couldn't take it anymore. "DiNozzo, that's food, not a toy. Eat it, don't play with it."

"I'm just not hungry, Boss. Thinking about eating it makes me feel kind of sick," Tony admitted.

Gibbs knew that Tony was exhausted. He didn't see that anything would be gained by forcing Tony to eat; after all, he was still being given fluids and nutrients intravenously. Giving in, he pushed the tray out of Tony's way, hoping that by removing it, Tony might settle down for a nap.

Nurse Susan came in to check on Tony, and didn't seem happy when she saw the discarded tray. "You know, you'll never grow up to be big and strong if you don't eat," she told Tony. "Was there a particular reason you didn't eat?" she asked, her tone serious this time.

"Just couldn't seem to make myself," Tony answered, knowing that if he wasn't truthful Gibbs would be.

"Well, it's been a long day for you," Susan said. "We'll try again a little later. Why don't you try and get some rest?" she suggested, taking the tray and leaving the room.

"Tony, that was good advice," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, you're probably right, Boss. How about we turn on the television?" Tony asked, actually excited to watch a little and hoping it would help keep him awake. "Is there a controller over on the table?"

Gibbs searched the table, finally finding the controller in its top drawer. Handing it to Tony, he said, "Just don't make me watch Oprah."

"Not gonna be a problem, Boss" and Tony was surprised that the prospect of TV actually had made him feel a bit more alive. He thumbed through the stations at breakneck speed, settling on an old Clint Eastwood western, figuring that Gibbs might find that entertaining too. Unfortunately for Tony, his idea ultimately backfired. He had seen the movie several times before and so his mind kept wandering away from the story. Soon he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Eventually the fatigue won out, and Tony fell asleep.

Gibbs sat and watched the movie through. When it was done, he reached over and disengaged the controller from Tony's hand. The movement must have woken him because Tony's eyes flew back open.

"I'm awake," Tony said, and Gibbs wasn't sure if he was talking to him or himself.

"Looks like it to me," he answered.

"Anything happen while I was asleep?" Tony asked, almost warily.

"Well, other than Clint Eastwood saving an entire Mexican village from a gang of outlaws, singlehandedly, no, not much."

"That's good," Tony said, sounding relieved, which confused Gibbs.

"What do you want to do now Tony?" he asked, wanting to take Tony's hand in his but feeling awkward about it now that they were no longer in the ICU and the intensity of the situation had lessen somewhat.

"Guess we could go back to the crossword," was Tony's answer.

And so they did. They were still at it when Abby appeared at 4:30.

She bounced into the room, slung the bowling bag she was carrying into a corner, and rushed over to the bed. "Talk to me Tony!" she demanded.

Tony was laughing, "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

"I don't care, I'm just so glad to hear your voice," Abby gushed, reaching her arms out, mindful of his IV lines and nasal cannula, and pulling Tony into a hug, while burying her face into him. Without lifting her head from the Tony's shoulder she said, "Hello Bossman."

"I see you're going bowling tonight," Tony said, talking to the top of Abby's head. It was hard to miss, as she was wearing a vintage 1950's turquoise and black bowling shirt over a pair of deeply cuffed jeans, saddle shoes, and a black neckerchief. Her only concessions to her usual style were the leather arm gauntlets and the studded belt draped around her hip, which oddly enough seemed to work with the whole outfit. The only incongruous element to her ensemble were the rainbow colored butterfly wings perched on her back.

"Yep, I wasn't supposed to tonight, except Sister Theresa sprained her knee when she tripped while dragging some naughty kindergartener by the ear to see the Father." Abby stopped to giggle and then continued, " Sister Rosita says that's what she gets for perpetuating a stereotype. Anyway, that left them down a team member so I agreed to pinch hit."

"Wrong sport, Abs," Gibbs grunted, privately amused by the story. He decided to use Abby's visit as an opportunity to go get some much needed caffeine. "Tony, Abby, I'm going to go across the street and get a coffee. I'll be back soon. Abby, remember Tony's still sick. Don't make him talk too much, and watch out for his bandages," he cautioned as he got up to leave.

"Not to worry," Abby assured.

Abby proceeded to give Tony a round up on all the office gossip. By the time she was finished he knew exactly who was doing what with who, and had even wagered twenty bucks on whether Jimmy would get a date with the new receptionist down in autopsy. Tony was betting against him since receptionists didn't seem to last long there. Abby had started in on questioning him about how he felt when Gibbs returned.

"Yeah, it's one way to get some rest," Gibbs heard Tony say bitterly as he walked back into the room. Not liking the way the conversation was clearly headed, Gibbs said, "Abs, what time are you supposed to be at the alley?"

"Oh gosh," Abs exclaimed, when she looked at the watch mounted to one of her gauntlets. "I need to be there in twenty five minutes. I've got to go Tony," she said, untangling herself from the bed. Once she was standing, she reached over and took Tony's face in both her hands. Looking him in the eyes she said, "Make sure you do everything they tell you to Tony. I want you out of here as soon as possible," waiting until he nodded his agreement, she kissed him on the cheek and retrieved her bowling bag. "I'll be back tomorrow and we can just hang out and watch TV," she promised. Then she reached out and hugged Gibbs, pulling his head down until it was even with her own. "Take care of him, Gibbs. He doesn't do it for himself," she whispered, in a tone that contained no humor. And with that, she was gone.

"What did she just say?" Tony demanded.

Gibbs just smirked at him, and reached up, pantomiming zipping his lips shut.

"Very funny Boss," Tony muttered, then grabbed up the controller and switched to the news.

Gibbs sat back in the chair, and they watched together, falling back into the companionable silence they had established over the last few days.

Nurse Susan brought in another tray of food just as the sports report was ending, announcing she was not leaving until he ate some of the food. It was a repeat of the earlier offering. This time Tony managed to drink all of the broth and eat a few small bites of the ice cream. After moving the tray out of the way, she checked several readings on the machines, jotting notes on his chart, and then left them alone.

Tony was unusually quiet the rest of the evening. Not that he had been doing a lot of talking recently, but there was a kind of reticence present that Gibbs had not felt before. Gibbs asked a couple of times if he was alright, only to be told that he was fine. As it got later Tony became restless. He shifted in the bed repeatedly and the coughing became more persistent. In contrast, the smiles he gave Gibbs every time he caught Gibbs looking at him grew bigger and brighter. Gibbs knew he was being played, he just couldn't figure out what the game was. After one particularly bad coughing jag, as he was easing Tony back down onto the bed, and was told yet again that he was fine, Gibbs snapped.

"What the hell's the matter with you DiNozzo?" he demanded, in full Gibbs mode. He wasn't prepared for the cringe Tony unconsciously offered as a response.

Realizing what he had done, Tony looked away and remained silent.

"Tony," Gibbs said, his voice considerably softer.

"It's nothing Boss; I guess I'm just too tired," Tony said, turning his head back to look at Gibbs.

Gibbs reached out and gently took hold of Tony's chin, holding his head in place. It was his first intimate touch since they had moved down to this room. "What else is bothering you Tony," he demanded softly, not letting go of Tony's face.

Tony surprised himself when he felt his eyes fill with tears. He looked into Gibbs eyes and whispered, "I don't know," and Gibbs could hear all the confusion, fear and frustration that was couched in that statement.

Gibbs let go of Tony's chin, and slid his hand up until he was touching Tony's temple. Then softly he began to thread his fingers through Tony's hair. He didn't say anything, sensing that Tony was beyond words at the moment. He just continued to run his hands through that silky hair. Slowly Tony's eyes closed, releasing one tear which ran down his cheek, and Gibbs knew he was asleep. Easing his hand from Tony's hair, he ran a finger down the track left by the tear, erasing any sign of its passing.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six:**

Gibbs stood watching Tony sleep for a long time. He wondered when this had become his favorite hobby, even the boat paled in comparison. Tony's face became vulnerable and strangely childlike in sleep. Gibbs knew he could look at it over and over again and never grow weary of the sight. Finally his tired knees and back got the better of him, and he tore his eyes away and eased himself down in the chair, glad that it was at least padded.

Gibbs picked the crossword puzzle book up off the floor from where it had fallen when he had exploded at Tony. Bringing it back up to his lap he thought about what had just happened. The pain and confusion that had shone through the tears in Tony's eyes scared him. Looking back over the day Gibbs realized that Tony had been building to that moment all day long – longer actually when he really stopped to think about it. Yesterday Tony had made that weird, self loathing apology and then last night he had lied to Gibbs when he said he didn't remember the nightmare. Today, even though he looked exhausted, the mere suggestion that he take a nap had sent Tony into a frenzy of side stepping and avoidance. Gibbs suspected the nightmares had a lot to do with Tony's behavior today, but he knew they were a symptom not the ailment. Gibbs wasn't sure what was at the root of Tony's problem but he understood it had left Tony with a distorted self image. Eventually it was going to need to be dealt with but Gibbs knew that helping Tony's body to heal had to come first. Gibbs looked back down at the crossword and smiled. Well, he'd always been good at puzzles he told himself, appreciating the irony.

There was less coming and going by medical personnel on the new floor. Gibbs suspected this was due to more patients and less help, rather than any radical improvement on Tony's part, and he was glad that he was there to keep a closer eye on Tony. As the hours dragged by Gibbs had gotten restless. He'd plugged in the CD player and listened to Miles Davis again while he finished two more crosswords. At one point he had found himself wondering around the room, rereading the short missives from Tony's well wishers. Earlier he had given in to impulse and had dragged Bert off the windowsill and placed him next to Tony, amused when Tony's arm had wrapped around the ugly stuffed hippo, producing a quiet fart. Finally, wanting something different to do, he sat back down and pulled out the book on motorcycle maintenance Ducky had for some reason packed for him. He looked it over –_The Zen and Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ – and wondered what in the hell it was, and why Ducky had sent it.

After reading a few chapters, Gibbs realized that Ducky had pulled a fast one on him. The book wasn't really about motorcycles, although they figured prominently in it. It was a statement of philosophy, developed on a cross country bike trip the author had taken with his son. Despite that, Gibbs found himself getting hooked. He liked the author's point of view. Pirsig, the author, was trying to show his son how the analytical and the intuitive aspects of a person needed to be combined; that no one could fully understand other people and the world until they could do that. That understanding was the 'Zen.' Gibbs liked that idea. He had always used his gut to steer his investigations – the intuitive and the intellectual. That was his problem with Tony right now he suddenly realized. The intuitive was screaming loudly, but Tony wasn't giving him the information the analytical part of his brain needed to understand exactly what was going on. Gibbs also liked the way Pirsig used conversations between the father and son about taking care of the motorcycle to illustrate his points. It made the book interesting and kept it from sounding didactic. It was really the original 'Philosophy for Dummies', Gibbs thought with amusement, proud of himself for making a popular culture reference.

He was about a third of the way through the book when Tony started to stir. Knowing that this could be the onset of another nightmare, Gibbs got up and took Tony's hand in his own. In a voice which he hoped was loud enough to cut through Tony's dreams, but not loud enough to wake him, he assured Tony that he was okay and that he was just dreaming. He promised that nothing could really get at Tony, he was just asleep. It seemed to help. Tony tossed a couple more times, but then settled back down. Gibbs wished he knew what the dreams were about; it was hard to guess at what the right words of comfort were. As he looked down at Tony, thinking, he flashed on something the narrator in the book had said to his son after one stop to fix the bike. He'd said, "The solutions all are simple—after you have arrived at them. But they're simple only when you know already what they are." Gibbs chuckled quietly, amused by the truth of that statement.

Tony had a couple more shaky moments during the night, but each time Gibbs had kept him from getting pulled completely into the dream. By the time light filtered into the room from the window, Gibbs was exhausted, but feeling good. He'd gladly run on a couple of sleepless nights if it meant Tony slept soundly. He could always catch a nap or two during the day, he told himself. Now that Tony was in a regular room there would be daytime visitors, and Gibbs could quit being on guard twenty four hours a day. He closed the book, carefully marking his place, and stood, needing to move.

Tony woke not long after that. "Boss?" was his first word upon waking. Gibbs thought smugly that he could get used to hearing that every morning and then chided himself for his own presumptuousness. He was aware that this was an artificial environment and things might be quite different once Tony was out of the hospital.

"Morning, Tony. Sleep well?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Tony, managing to sound relieved and puzzled all at once. "Wonder what the morning routine will be on this floor?" he asked, more to have something to say than to express real curiosity. When his hand brushed up against something he smiled slightly when he looked down and saw Bert. He looked over at Gibbs with a questioning expression.

Gibbs watched this, and was about to say something but stopped because Tony had started a round of coughing.

"Getting" coughing, "sick of" more coughing, "away soon."

"Give it time, Tony. It will." Gibbs was getting good at interpreting Tony's coughed rants, having heard several yesterday, and he reached over to wipe at Tony's face with the tissue he'd picked up.

Coughing, coughing, "embarrassing" coughing, "big baby" coughing "imposition" coughing.

"Shut up DiNozzo, you're making it worse by talking. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. No one thinks you're a baby, and you certainly aren't an imposition on me. I don't do anything I don't want to, you know that." Gibbs growled as he pounded on Tony's back, helping to loosen the phlegm.

A respiratory therapist showed up in time to witness the last of the coughing. Taking over for Gibbs and administering advice on how to breathe through coughing fits, the therapist worked on setting Tony to rights. More hospital personnel appeared during this, and before Gibbs knew it Tony had been bathed, fed, examined, and ordered to rest.

"I don't know about you Tony, but I'm tired just from watching all that," Gibbs joked once the room had cleared.

Tony gave a small laugh and then asked, "Did you say yesterday that Ziva and McGeek were coming today?"

"Yep, McGee's been biting at the bit for the last two days. Figured it could wait until you were able to talk back."

"That's good." Tony lapsed back into silence for a minute, chewing on his lower lip as he though about something. Then he said, "Hey Boss, you don't need to stay if you don't want to. No need to worry. I'm a lot better and I know you probably want to do whatever it is you do on the weekends. I can entertain myself."

"You trying to get rid of me? You better, and entertaining yourself, _is_ _what_ I'm worried about DiNozzo." Gibbs said, trying to turn the conversation into a joke, knowing full well that Tony wasn't well enough to cause anyone any trouble.

"Boss, you've got to be getting tired with all of this, I know I am. I don't want to you to think of me as an obligation," Tony said, his voice serious and honest.

Gibbs studied Tony before he answered. He was smiling, but Gibbs thought he could see anxiousness and fear through some of the cracks in Tony's veneer. Gibbs knew he had to be careful about what he said but now might be the time to introduce a subject he hadn't touched on yet. "Tony, I think I can invest a week in making sure you get better. I've got years into making you the best agent I ever trained." He paused, took a breath and said, "Besides, if I don't learn what they're doing for you now, we'll both be screwed when we get to my house after they release you."

And that statement was met with total silence. Tony was shocked and didn't seem to know what to say and Gibbs wasn't about to say another word-daring Tony to object. They were frozen, staring unblinkingly at each other, when Dr. Anderson came in for his morning visit. Gibbs wasn't sure if he was irritated or relieved by the timing.

"Good morning gentlemen. I trust you're enjoying the new room. Much better than ICU, I think. Saw your chart, looks like you had a good night Tony. A few more of those and you'll be out of here before you know it." That statement caused Tony and Gibbs to look at each other again, neither of them commenting.

"We aren't going to x-ray you today Tony. I don't think there's much point. The x-rays over the past few days have shown a steady improvement and there's no reason to think that hasn't continued. We'll take some in a couple of days, and that will help us decide what else needs to happen here. Actually, once the pneumonia's under control, there isn't a lot of reason to keep you hospitalized. Everything else can continue to heal from the comforts of your own bed."

"What about getting around and," Tony seemed to pause, embarrassed by where his question was headed and not knowing how to phrase it. "You know, taking care of necessities," was what he finally settled on, waving his hand a bit near his hip to help make himself understood.

"Yes well, tomorrow we'll remove the catheter and start getting you up a bit, if your strength is back sufficiently. I'm sure you've used crutches before, so that shouldn't be too big an issue. Once we do that, we can try solid food. We're going to start cutting back on some of the medication today and see what happens. That'll be the first step."

"Which medications?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, we're still giving him a significant amount of pain control medicine. We'll start cutting down on that and seeing if we can substitute with less potent drugs, which can be taken orally. We'll also start lowering the levels of antibiotics, and that will mean watching the lungs closely and also monitoring for post operative infections," Dr. Anderson said, waiting to see if either of the men had questions. "If you continue to do well on the soft diet, Tony, we can also lessen the fluids and nutritional supplements," he then said.

"So I'll be eating pizza before I know it, is that what you're saying Doc?" Tony asked only half jokingly.

"That might take just a bit longer; but you'll get there soon enough," Dr. Anderson promised. He then proceeded to check Tony's various monitors. Pleased with what he saw, he promised to check on Tony later, to see how the changes were going.

That left them alone again; looking at each other in silence.

"Gibbs"

"Tony"

They spoke at the same time, causing them both to laugh.

"Go ahead," Gibbs said, beating Tony to the punch.

"You don't need to offer up your house. I'll be fine at my own apartment. I've had to manage on crutches lots of times before," Tony said.

"But you don't _have _to this time, Tony. I want you to stay with me until you're better." Gibbs said. "And, Tony, I would never think of you as an obligation. You're a choice – a choice that I've made."

"Yeah well, we've all made choices we regret, Boss," Tony said bitterly.

"Don't I know it," Gibbs answered him. "I've made a bunch of bad choices over the years, but you're not one of them, Tony."

"It'd be better if you just let me go back to my place, Gibbs," Tony said, although he didn't sound as adamant as before, Gibbs thought.

"Now _that_ would be a bad choice," Gibbs told him.

Tony just looked at him, studying his face as if searching for something. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he gave a little smile and said, "I'm a terrible roommate Gibbs. I play the television too loud, leave dirty dishes sitting around, and I even forget to put down the toilette seat."

"It'll be okay Tony. As long as you don't leave pantyhose hanging from the shower rod I'm good," Gibbs said, relieved now that they were on easier ground. He knew they'd revisit this conversation later but that it was closed for now.

"So, want to find the news on the idiot box?" he asked Tony, and smiled to himself as Tony happily clicked the controller at the television.

They watched the television the rest of the morning, Gibbs dozing as the dialogue and Tony's commentaries provided a soundtrack for his sleep.

In the early afternoon, soft knocking on the already open door pulled Tony's attention away from the television. McGee and Ziva stood in the doorway, their arms laden with magazines for Tony and coffee for Gibbs.

"Get your asses in here," Tony called excitedly when he saw them, the change in his voice's tone waking Gibbs from his nap.

"Hey there, Tony," McGee said as he cautiously entered the room. Ziva followed behind, taking in all the details in one sweep of her eyes. Looking over at Gibbs, he simply acknowledged his presence with a nod of the head and a soft, "Boss," and he wordlessly handed over the coffee.

"Hello Tony," Ziva said, "I am glad you are doing better."

"Have to be Ziva. You guys can't be left on your own for too long. No telling what could happen without me to keep you in line," he quipped happily.

"Already happened," Gibbs grunted from the chair, causing McGee to wince and Ziva to shrug, even as she smiled at Tony.

Tony was now intrigued. "Spit it out, Elf Lord. What's Gibbs talking about?"

McGee hesitated, not knowing if he should talk about Lynch with Tony, not wanting to stir up unpleasant memories.

"He is referring to our investigation into what happened to you, Tony," Ziva said.

"What about it Ziva?" Tony asked.

"We may have pushed the letter a bit"

"Envelope, Ziva. See, you're already forgetting your English without me there," Tony said, taking comfort in the familiar. "What did you mean by that," he asked, zeroing back in on what had been said.

Ziva glanced over at Gibbs, who nodded his approval for her to continue.

"When Cassie and her team took over," this statement causing Tony to glance at Gibbs, knowing how he hated to give up control of a case, "McGee and I had Abby process some evidence we happened to find while waiting for Cassie at the crime scene, and that led to a possible location for Lynch. We did not want to bother Cassie, so we investigated it ourselves."

"That's one way to describe what you two idiots did," Gibbs commented.

McGee could not resist anymore, and he picked up the story, telling Tony about how they gained access to Lynch's apartment building and their imitation of a drunken couple. "I didn't even know Ziva knew what a Jersey girl was," he said as the story was concluded.

Tony was gasping with laughter by that time and he was having trouble catching his breath. His laughter suddenly morphed into body racking coughs, causing his face to flush a deep red and the gasping to take on an urgent and alarming quality.

Gibbs was on his feet in an instant, pulling Tony up into a sitting position and pounding on his back to clear the gathering mucus from his airway. McGee had seen this before, when Tony had the plague, but Ziva had not.

Seeing Tony like that, and noting the blood that spotted the tissue Gibbs held to Tony's mouth, she took a step back, even as McGee moved closer, ready to help. She was not good in deeply personal moments, and viewing Tony's weakness made her feel awkward. She watched as McGee reached over and helped hold Tony up while Gibbs worked on helping Tony breath. Standing alone, watching, Ziva was reminded her of her early months at NCIS, when she was treated as an intruder and viewed with suspicion.

Tony was slowly recovering, and he lifted his head, his eyes catching Ziva's. Ziva realized that she didn't want to go back to being the outsider. Making a decision, she stepped closer. Going over to the table beside the bed, she pulled another tissue from the box. Reaching out, she removed the soiled one from Gibbs' hand, replacing it with the clean tissue.

Glancing over at her in surprise, Gibbs murmured his thanks, and then focused back on Tony. "Better now?" he asked, as Tony's breathing began to stabilize.

"M'fine," Tony mumbled his patented reply.

"I think Vance reacted similarly to the story," McGee said, breaking the tension in the room. "We're assigned to cold cases until Gibbs is back and everyone else in the bullpen is avoiding us."

"That's probably because they're afraid Ziva is ready to kill something," Tony managed to say.

Knowing the worst was over, Gibbs signaled for McGee to lay Tony back onto the bed.

The room was quiet for a few moments while everyone relaxed.

"We brought you some magazines," McGee said, eager to move them away from what had just happened. "Figured even you needed a break from _Magnum P.I._ reruns."

The visit continued for another half hour, joking and teasing permeating the conversation. They moved casually from one topic to another. Finally, Tony's eyes began to droop and he seemed to be having difficulties following what was being said.

"That's it people. It's DiNozzo's naptime," Gibbs announced after seeing Tony's head jerk, as he struggled to stay awake.

"I'm not a baby," Tony objected.

"Maybe not, but you are ready for some sleep," Gibbs replied in his 'no one dares argue with me' voice.

McGee and Ziva took the hint, saying their goodbyes and promising to come back tomorrow.

Once they were gone, Tony began to argue that he wasn't really tired, irritating Gibbs who decided to shut that down immediately. "We're not going to have a repeat of yesterday, Tony," he declared. "You _are _tired, exhausted in fact, and you _are_ going to take a nap." Then, letting the command in his voice drop, he added, "Go to sleep Tony. I'll keep the nightmares away; I did last night."

When Tony's shoulders sagged, Gibbs knew he had guessed correctly. Tony looked up at Gibbs' unwavering eyes and gave a small nod. He lifted his hand up off the bed slightly and Gibbs, knowing what he wanted, took it in his own. Then Tony let his eyes close.

Dr. Pitt's arrival, late in the afternoon, woke Tony. Taking in all the tokens from Tony's well wishers, he sighed dramatically and announced, "Oh to be the popular boy in school."

Tony rolled his eyes, and said, "Hey Brad."

"I thought I'd find you sitting up in bed, talking a blue streak."

"That was earlier," Gibbs said dryly. "He's just resting his mouth right now, gearing up for the next round."

"Well that's good. If it hadn't happened I'd be concerned that we moved you here too soon, Tony."

"Did you come for a specific reason or just to rag on me, Brad?" Tony asked sweetly.

"Just checking up on you. Your other doctors are amazed at how quickly you're recovering. I need to keep up my image as a miracle worker; don't want them finding out this is always how it goes with you. If I didn't come around regularly they might figure it out," Brad said, smirking slightly.

"How's the coughing?" he then asked.

"Not a real problem." Tony answered.

Brad looked over at Gibbs, knowing he would get the truth from him. "He's had a couple of bad rounds, but it is getting better. He's going longer and longer between fits, and seems to be breathing better in general," Gibbs tattled.

"Well your temperature seems stalled at about one hundred degrees, so although the pneumonia's not gone, it looks like it's on its way out. We'll see what happens as the antibiotics flush out of your system. You know Tony, all kidding aside, you really are a lucky s.o.b." Brad said. "But everyone's luck runs out at some point. Your lungs aren't going to keep taking stuff like this. You might want to think about that and take some precautions."

That was not what Tony wanted to hear, and he definitely didn't want Gibbs thinking about it. "Noted," he said, eager to brush it off. "So, how's your team shaping up this year? Think they'll embarrass themselves when they play OSU this year. It sure didn't turn out well for them last time," knowing this would sidetrack Brad.

They launched into a lengthy discussion of all the teams' strengths and weaknesses, making speculations about how the season would shape up. Gibbs sat and listened with half an ear. He was very aware of what Tony was doing. Tony had played Brad like the pro he was. Brad had a point, though. Tony got himself into bad situations way too often. That was going to have to change, but figuring out how to do that was the trick and he let his mind wander.

Gibbs was thinking about the problem when he heard, "Boss? Hey, Very Special Agent to Gibbs. You with me, Boss?"

Gibbs looked over at Tony, noticing that Brad had left. Tony was watching him intently, a contemplative expression on his face. "Boss, why don't you go back to sleep. You're tired and I'm just going to watch some TV," Tony said, careful to keep his voice light and breezy.

"Plenty of time to sleep later," Gibbs grunted back.

"Not if you're going to watch me sleep all night," Tony said, lifting his chin, daring Gibbs to challenge him.

"Someone's got to DiNozzo." Gibbs said, and then, saying 'what the hell' to himself, he added, "And I want to," and then found himself holding his breath, wondering what Tony would say.

"I'd like that," came the soft reply. Then, the admission making him uneasy, and not wanting to give Gibbs a chance to say more, Tony turned on the television, adjusted the volume lower, and pretended to become engrossed in some talk show.

Gibbs contented himself with watching Tony for a bit, surprised by how nice it was not having to hide it, not worrying about other people noticing his interest. He would miss that when things went back to normal. After it became clear that Tony was done talking for a while, Gibbs gave in to his own fatigue and let himself go back to sleep.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Food, medicine and instructions were pushed down Tony. Abby and Ducky came and went. Gibbs retrieved coffee and food from across the street. And the television played on. By eight o'clock Tony was showing the effects of the heightened activity and the decrease in pain medications. His face looked drawn and there was a tautness around his eyes. His talking had taken on the manic quality that Gibbs now recognized as Tony's way of avoiding the unpleasant.

Sighing, Gibbs wondered how long this was going to go on. Eventually Tony would have to confront the dreams – he couldn't continue being afraid of sleep. "Bedtime, Tony," he said. "You've got to get some sleep."

"Are you going back to work tomorrow Boss?" Tony asked, not really sure what he wanted Gibbs' answer to be.

"Yeah, I'd better, before Ziva hurts someone. They'll keep you plenty busy here during the day, and I'll be back in the evening," Gibbs said, working to reassure them both.

"To watch me sleep?" Tony asked, letting Gibbs know that the previous conversation had not been forgotten.

"Yeah Tony, to watch you sleep." Gibbs echoed.

"Okay," was all Tony said, but it was enough.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven:**

And so the night passed, Tony sleeping and Gibbs watching over him. Tony had a couple of bad moments during the night; at one point he sank too far into the nightmare for Gibbs to nudge him back out without waking him, but returned to sleep quickly after receiving reassurances from Gibbs. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, despite his efforts to avoid it, Gibbs succumbed to sleep.

Gibbs woke with a start when he heard a noise. His eyes darted anxiously to Tony, afraid that he was dreaming, but found him resting peacefully. Glancing around, he saw a nurse setting up a breakfast tray on the table next to the bed.

"Good morning," she said. "I was just getting ready to wake you both up."

Gibbs looked at his watch, 6:30. If he left soon he would have time to swing by the house for a shower and change of clothes. Calling over to Tony to wake him, he stood. Once Tony was awake he said, "Got to get to work. I'll be back later. Do me a favor and cooperate with the nice people today, okay DiNozzo?" he said, needing, for himself at the very least, to make his departure seem casual.

"Sure Boss. See you later." Tony said, his expression hard to interrupt.

Gibbs had only taken a few steps when Tony said, "Try not to work too hard."

"I'll work on that." Gibbs answered.

Gibbs had almost gotten to the door when Tony called, "Hey Boss, give McGee hell for me, would you?"

"Not a problem," Gibbs said with a smile and turned to leave. He'd only gotten a step further when he heard,

"And a hug for Abby?"

"Sure," Gibbs said with a smile, when he realized that Tony was stalling. Turning back to Tony he asked, "You gonna give Brad a hug for me?"

"Very funny, Boss," Tony answered, trying to stifle his amusement.

Finally the nurse interrupted and said, "He needs to go to work and you need to eat breakfast. Say good bye Tony."

Gibbs groaned, knowing what was coming.

Sure enough - "Good bye, Tony," were the next words out of Tony's mouth.

Gibbs laughed, waved his hand, and forced himself out the door, the sound of the nurse's laughter trailing behind him.

Gibbs managed to get home, clean up, fetch coffee and be at his desk by 8:00. McGee and Ziva arrived together at 9:00 on the dot.

"Nice of you to join me," he snapped at them.

"Boss, you're back!" McGee exclaimed, ignoring Gibbs' sarcasm.

"Finally, done with cold cases," Ziva said, in lieu of a proper greeting.

" 'Fraid not," Gibbs informed them. "Vance said something about you 'learning to follow orders' and me 'needing to rein you in', and then followed that with something about 'cold cases for another week would do us all good'."

After absorbing that demoralizing news they all settled down for a long, boring day. Ziva and McGee came up with a couple of new ideas on one case, and Gibbs dispatched them to follow up on it, managing to sneak in a small nap while they were gone. They returned, depressed when the lead had fizzled out and returned to pouring over old interviews and notes.

Gibbs broke the monotony of the day with calls to the nurses' desk, checking on Tony. Finally, during his fifth call, Nurse Susan, who had drawn the short straw and was being forced to deal with Gibbs, asked, "When do you get off work, Gibbs?" When he answered 5:00, she looked at her watch, seeing that it was now 4:00. "Thank God," she said, and ordered him not to call again, telling him she would see him soon.

By 4:50 Gibbs had given up any pretenses of working. Instead he sat, staring at the wall clock, murder in his eyes, willing it to run faster. Finally, when 5:00 rolled round, he gathered up his stuff, slammed his desk drawer closed, and announced, "Gather up your stuff, people. Time to leave," and headed for the elevator with no further good bye.

When he arrived at the hospital, he took the stairs up to Tony's floor, unwilling to wait for the elevator. Walking in to Tony's room, he saw two nurses, their backs turned to him, leaning over Tony. His heart immediately started pounding, assuming the worst. He stopped dead in his tracks, when one nurse began to giggle gaily. Tony laughed along with her, saying, "and then he knocked me down and broke my leg."

"Talking about your illustrious college career, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, slightly surprised when the nurses turned around and he found himself looking at Karen and Nurse Susan. Taking in the familiar way Karen's hand was resting on Tony's shoulder Gibbs felt a sharp spike of jealousy.

"Hey Boss, welcome back," Tony said happily, oblivious to Gibbs' reaction. "I was just telling them about how I met Brad." Looking up at Karen he said impishly, "Nurse Karen had the hots for him," and he and Nurse Susan dissolved into laughter.

"Thanks a lot for sharing with the world," Karen protested, the blush on her face confirming Tony's words.

"Just be glad it's Susan and not me you have to deal with tonight, Tony," she threatened.

Then, turning to Gibbs she said, "Don't listen to him Gibbs. The fever has gotten the best of him. He's clearly delirious."

Then she looked at her watch and said, "Well, my break is almost over, best get back upstairs. Don't forget Tony, I need to get a picture of you before you leave. Gibbs, I'm trusting you to make sure that happens." And Gibbs promised, remembering her _Book of Miracles_, wanting nothing more than to have Tony's picture featured prominently in it.

Susan excused herself as well, saying she needed to get meds pulled together for all the patients, and just like that, Gibbs was alone with Tony.

Gibbs looked around the room. Things had changed while he had been at work. Gone was the heart monitor, catheter and half of the IV poles. A pair of crutches rested against the table next to the bed, and Tony's right leg was encased in a bright blue air splint. Gibbs felt a pang of regret over the fact that he had not been here to share in all of these positive advances with Tony and more than a little jealous of those that had.

"Big day, Tony?" he asked.

"Good day, Gibbs," Tony answered.

Then in a rush of words, he continued. "I got to get up twice, even if it was only to go to the bathroom. Little DiNozzo was very happy to see the catheter go away. You should see me Gibbs. I could win the gimps are us crutches race. Brad came by. And no, before you ask, I didn't hug him for you, Boss. But I almost hugged him for _me_. He said tomorrow we're going to get rid of the oxygen and see how that goes. I'm so close to leaving here I can taste it. And speaking of tasting, tomorrow I get to move back to _real_ food. And tomorrow I get to take the crutches out for a spin and walk around the floor for a while. Karen said she's coming down to watch the nurses chase after me. I really missed you, Jethro. Even got to watch part of a Magnum marathon this afternoon. Maybe it's still on, we can check it out later. I know you could learn to love the show."

Gibbs was laughing so hard at Tony's enthusiastic replay of his day that he almost missed the 'I really missed you, Jethro' that Tony artfully slid into his account. As a matte of fact, he had to replay the last bit of Tony's rant in his mind to make sure he had heard correctly. Yep, Tony had said he had missed him; and he had called him Jethro.

Slowly Gibbs realized that Tony had stopped talking and was chewing on his bottom lip, watching him warily. "Sounds eventful," he grunted, and then he smiled and said, "And I missed you too, Tony."

The radiant smile that replaced the worry on Tony's face made the whole day worthwhile for Gibbs.

They spent the rest of the night discussing cold cases, doing crosswords and watching a little T.V. Around 9:30 Tony was yawning and fighting sleep. A nurse had just been in, dispensing a small arsenal of pills and checking all of Tony's vitals and Gibbs had just returned from a quick Starbucks run. As Gibbs settled back, Tony looked over at him.

"Boss, I really need to sleep," he admitted reluctantly, pain and fatigue forcing his hand.

Gibbs, knowing what that admission had cost Tony, and pleased with the progress they were clearly making, just smiled, reached out for Tony's hand and said, "Then sleep Tony."

The next two days were virtual repeats of Monday. Every night Gibbs chased away Tony's demons while he slept and every day Gibbs went to work- snuck naps as he could, and counted the minutes until the clock read 5:00. The only differences between each day were the various visitors Tony received and the steady improvement Tony showed. His coughing lessened with each passing day, the nasal cannula disappeared, and his strength seemed to be slowly returning. He could now sit up by himself for more than two hours at a time, and he was eating solid food. He managed to hobble to the bathroom by himself, with the aide of the crutches and under the watchful eyes of a nurse. By Wednesday night the IV poles had disappeared, and Tony was receiving all of his medications orally.

When Gibbs got back to the hospital Wednesday evening, Susan stopped him on his way into Tony's room and told him that Dr. Anderson was wondering if Gibbs would be in Tony's room tomorrow morning, around eight o'clock. She said he wanted to talk to both of them. Gibbs assured her that would be no problem and then headed in to see Tony, curious as to whether he knew what was up.

Tony was dozing on the bed, covered in magazines, Sinatra playing and the television turned on- sound muted. Not wanting to wake him, Gibbs sank into his usual chair, scooted down in the seat, and took the opportunity to catch up on his own sleep, knowing that Tony only seemed to be having the bad dreams at night.

Gibbs woke up a couple of hours later, to find Tony watching him intently. "Wondered if you were going to sleep through the night, Boss," he said, smiling lazily.

"Nah, I'm good. I've been catching some sleep during the day. I sneak down to Abby's lab and use her futon," Gibbs confessed. "Just didn't have anything better to do while you were napping," he offered up as an excuse.

Tony looked at him, not really buying into it, but clearly deciding not to challenge Gibbs.

"So, Susan tells me Dr. Anderson wants a meeting in the morning. Any idea what its about?" Gibbs asked.

Tony, clearly surprised to learn this, admitted to having no idea. "Probably wants to give a progress report," he guessed. "It's been a few days since he talked to both of us, and he spends most of his time with me asking questions, not giving information," he said, sounding a little petulant.

"Well, guess we'll find out in the morning," Gibbs said, effectively ending that discussion, determined to keep the mood upbeat. "So what did you do today?"

Tony launched into a recounting of his day, which sadly, did not take too long. There was only so much one could do when stuck in a hospital bed, and Tony had pretty much exhausted the possibilities. "How about you? Anything happening on any of the cases?" Tony asked Gibbs.

"Not really. Vance is going to have to take us off cold cases soon. The team is slowly going crazy. Ziva is starting to spend time down in the morgue, listening to Ducky's stories and today, McGee actually asked if we could go to the gym and practice some hand to hand combat, volunteering to be Ziva's partner. I started looking for the pod, then," Gibbs said the last just to entertain Tony, knowing it would amuse him to hear Gibbs quote something he was fond of saying.

"Welcome to the twenty first century Boss," Tony sassed in response to Gibbs' comment.

They fell into a companionable silence then, both content to sit there, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Tony picked up one of the discarded magazines and leafed through it, occasionally reading an article that caught his eye. Gibbs took out the _Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ and continued reading, having very nearly finished it over the past few nights. At ten o'clock Gibbs closed the book, announcing it was time for Tony to go to sleep. He helped straighten up the bed, and then standing by its side, he reached down and touched Tony's cheek.

Tony looked up at Gibbs and they both seemed to be holding their breath. Nothing further had been said about their feelings and touches had been limited to hand holding as Tony fell asleep each night. Tony lifted his chin a bit, effectively caressing his own cheek, then rotated his head, until his lips were pressed into Gibbs' hand. Then, closing his eyes, he let a smile form on his lips. The movement of Tony's lips on his hand sent a shiver down Gibbs' spin. He let his fingers lightly trace Tony's lips and then removed his hand, placing it in Tony's hand as it rested on the bed.

Nothing was said out loud, but they both knew that promises had just been made.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight:**

8:00 a.m. found Gibbs pacing the room like a caged tiger and Tony lying in bed watching the news, trying to ignore Gibbs. They were both nervous, wondering what Dr. Anderson wanted to discuss with them, and were trying to deal with their anxiety with the only options available to them. When Dr. Anderson walked through the door a few minutes later, Gibbs pounced on him

"What did you want to talk about?" he demanded.

"Good morning to you too, Gibbs," Dr. Anderson laughed. Then he looked over at the bed, inclined his head, and said, "Tony."

Tony smiled his greeting.

"Why don't we pull up a couple of chairs and then we can talk," suggested Dr. Anderson.

Gibbs stomach contracted and flipped. In his experience only bad things followed the suggestion, 'let's sit down and talk'.

"I'm just fine standing," he said, irrationally believing that a refusal to sit would ward off unpleasant news.

"Okay, well, I wanted to discuss what happens next." Dr. Anderson said.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs replied, not following him.

"Next, after Tony gets released."

"Is that going to happen soon?" Tony asked excitedly.

"I was thinking about tomorrow. If you think you can deal with that?" Dr. Anderson said, grinning as Tony literally bounced up and down on the bed with glee.

"Looks like that works for him," Gibbs observed dryly, secretly wishing he could be as effusive as Tony. "What time will he be released?" he asked, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the top of Tony's celebration.

"Early afternoon I should think," was the reply. "We'll want to take some final x-rays, just to confirm the healing process and respiratory therapy will want to have a final session with him. The nurses will need to go over all of his medications and the care needed for the various wounds and incisions. He'll need to schedule follow up visits with Dr. Pitt and the ortho guy." He paused, letting all that information sink in, and then continued. "Do we need to send over an occupational therapist to help him figure out how to manage on his own until he's healed?" Dr. Anderson asked, already suspecting what the answer would be.

"That won't be necessary. He's going to be staying at my house until he's better. His apartment would be too hard to navigate on crutches. I'll be here in the morning so that I can hear all of the instructions too."

Tony had quieted down by this point and was listening closely to the conversation.

"What about work, Boss?" he asked.

"Vance'll give me another day off. It's not like we're working a big case right now." Gibbs shrugged off the question.

"Well then, since that's settled we need to talk about what you need to do once you're home Tony," Dr. Anderson said.

"Get back to having a life!" was Tony's quick response.

"I wasn't aware you were dead, DiNozzo," was Gibbs' sharp retort, inexplicably hurt by Tony's comment.

"You know what I mean, Boss. I get to shower, wear real clothes, go outside, eat what I want, watch a movie, take a walk; stuff like that."

"Not quite," said Dr. Anderson, amused by Tony and sorry he was about to burst his bubble. "You get to rest in bed, eat a balanced diet of relatively bland foods, take your medicine on a regular schedule, do your breathing exercises, stay off that leg, and keep the incisions dry and clean. Oh, and did I mention sleep, as regularly and as much as possible. But you do get do all that in a more comfortable bed with better scenery. You will not overexert yourself, lift anything too heavy, or spend too much time on your feet."

"Heard and noted, Doctor," said Gibbs, glaring meaningfully as Tony. "You can count on him behaving."

"Alright then, I'll see you both tomorrow," Dr. Anderson said, as he turned to leave.

"Tony, I've got to go too, or I'll be late. We can plan things out when I get back," and with that Gibbs was gone.

Tony looked at the now empty room and sighed, "Well, Happy Birthday to me," and prepared himself for a very long day of doing nothing.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was busily plotting out how he was going to get everything done that he needed to accomplish that day. He needed get to his house at some point to shower, change and get the guest room ready. He should probably do some grocery shopping, sure that any food in the frig was long past its expiration date, and he needed to run over to Tony's place to pick up some clothes and toiletries. Oh yeah, he also had to put in an eight hour day at work. By the time he got to the office he had a plan – he was going to divide and conquer.

When he got up to the bullpen, he immediately called Abby up from the lab. Once she got upstairs, had been hugged and handed a caf-pow, Gibbs was ready to launch his battle plan.

"Okay people, campfire!" he announced, smirking at the shocked expressions on their faces at his use of Tony's term, but sitting down at his desk, waiting for them to gather round.

"DiNozzo's being released to me tomorrow and we've got a lot to do. Everyone is working an extra hour tonight. That way we can each take a longer lunch. Anyone got a problem with that?" he asked, daring them to object.

"Um, sure? No problem. You got it, Bossman!" were all said simultaneously.

"Good. Now, Abby and McGee, at lunch I want you to take Tony's extra key and go over to his apartment and get what he'll need to spend about a week or so at my place. Remember to bring one change of clothes back here so he has something to wear home tomorrow. Ziva, over your lunch hour I need you to go to the grocery store and pick up some staples. I'm pretty low on food at home and we all know how DiNozzo likes to eat. Oh, and Ziva? He's on a bland diet, so make sure its all healthy stuff. You can all swing by my house and drop everything off, the door's unlocked. Questions?"

"On it Boss! That will be fine. Nope!" were the only responses.

When lunch rolled around Gibbs' troupes deployed. Gibbs rushed back to his house and took care of his personal needs, then headed back to NCIS to talk to Vance, needing to get the next day off. He was shocked when Vance not only gave him Friday off, but reminded him that Monday was Memorial Day and they were all off then too. Gibbs had been so caught up in what was happening with Tony he had completely lost track of the calendar. Perfect! He thought to himself as he went back down to the bullpen. He had four full days to get Tony completely settled in.

Everyone returned from their appointed tasks, reporting success and time seemed to stop for Gibbs. 6:00 took forever to arrive. At last it was time to leave, grabbing Tony's clothes Gibbs headed back to the hospital, very pleased with himself, eager to see Tony.

Unfortunately for Gibbs, the Tony that lay waiting for him was not the same, excited Tony he had left behind early that morning. The Tony that now resided in the hospital bed was the Tony who had been left to his own boredom, memories, and worries for too many hours that day, with no way of distracting himself. This was the Tony who didn't think he was worth any fuss; the Tony who was always afraid he was about to let someone down. This Tony sat staring at the television, pretending to be absorbed in some game show. Gibbs tried ignoring the mood change at first, talking about the day as if Tony had expressed an interest. When that didn't work, he resorted to humor, poking fun at the contestants on the T.V. show, hoping to get Tony to play along. Finally, on his last nerve, Gibbs confronted Tony.

"Want to tell me what's eating at you Tony?" he demanded. "You should be happy. You get to leave here tomorrow, instead you're pouting like a baby."

Tony gave a bitter laugh. "That's right Gibbs, 'like a baby', that's a good way to describe me. Just like a baby – too ignorant to make the right decisions, too weak to take care of himself, too fucked up to even sleep through the night – just like a baby. You know, I never figured you for the babysitting type, Boss. Bet you'll get bored with that fast."

Well this was going to be a fun night, Gibbs thought, as he tried to decide how to respond. He guessed this had been inevitable, Tony had been on the brink for the past few days. Maybe if he pushed he'd finally learn what was eating at Tony and destroying his sleep. The trick would be in figuring out how far to push.

"Okay Tony, have it your way. Let's look at each of those statements – too ignorant to make the right decisions, huh? Just what decisions are we talking about here, 'cause I'm not sure?"

"Forget it. Let's just drop this." Tony said, realizing he had said too much, desperately trying to figure out how to take it all back.

Gibbs inured himself to the panic and hurt in Tony's eyes. He pushed on. "I don't think so Tony. Don't like that statement? Let's try another. How about 'too weak to take care of himself'? That's a good one."

"Damn it Boss. Just drop it. I'm just too tired, talking out of my ass," Tony pleaded.

"Of course, there's my personal favorite – too fucked up to even sleep through the night."

"Fuck you Gibbs." Tony was almost whispering.

"Well, that clears it all up for me. Glad you could explain it so eloquently."

" You've seen me-Christ, every night- afraid to even close my eyes! Too weak to chase away my own bad dreams, have to have someone else do it for me!" That's just great, he thought. He hadn't intended to say that either. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, trying to think of a way to get this to stop.

"Please, let it go," he choked out, still staring at the ceiling.

"Not gonna happen; not this time. We're gonna deal with it right now. We aren't taking this home with us." When Gibbs said that, Tony's head snapped back down.

"Yes we would, don't you get it? That's exactly what we'd be doing. That's why this won't work. It goes everywhere with me!" Tony was now looking directly at Gibbs, something wild and feral showing in his eyes.

"What does Tony? Tell me what's eating at you."

"Everything Gibbs- my father, Jeanne, Kate, Jenny, even fucking Jeffery White - every case I've screwed up, everything I deserve to be punished for. And there'll be more. Just look at me now. At least this time I managed to only get myself hurt. Now I can't even take care of myself; you've got to drop everything and look after me. How long is it going to take before you get tired of it and then what will I do?" and with that Tony turned his head away, tears streaming unabated down his face.

There it was, not the particulars, but at least the roots. Well he'd asked for it; what are you going to do now, Jethro, he asked himself?

"Listen up Tony. I'm gonna tell you this once more, and then we're gonna move on. I'm not good at this kind of thing, but I'll try to do it, for you Tony-only for you. We talked about this a little the other night, but apparently I wasn't clear enough. You listening now?" he asked, and waited for Tony's reluctant nod.

"Let me answer some of those questions for you Tony," Gibbs said. "Too ignorant to make good decisions? Why do you think you're my senior agent Tony? Because you have a habit of making bad decisions? Not too likely. You're the only one I would trust my team to, because you make decisions not only with your head, but also with your heart. You're better at that than I am, for god's sake. You can't save everyone, Tony, but that doesn't mean you've made a bad decision. Sometimes you're not the right one to save them –that was Jeanne. Sometimes people won't let you save them-that was Jenny. Sometimes no one can save them-that was Kate, and sometimes they just don't deserve to be saved-and that was Jeffery White. You don't get to win them all Tony, no one does."

Then Gibbs went out on a limb, remembering the 'my father' statement. "And if someone called you ignorant too many times at some point in your life, that doesn't mean you really were. It means they needed to make themselves feel better at your expense."

"Too weak to take care of yourself? You've been sick enough to kill almost anyone else. This is twice you've defied the odds and surprised even your doctors. You did that because you're strong. And so now you need a little help while you finish healing yourself. That doesn't make you weak. Seems to me you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, Tony. Maybe too long. Sometimes it's weaker not to let someone else help. I know that because I made that mistake. I ran away, down to Mexico, rather than let the rest of you help me. So accepting my help doesn't make you weak Tony, it makes you smart and strong. Just like you've been proving these last couple of nights."

"And that brings us to not being able to sleep through the night. What you're experiencing is called night terrors. Know how I know that? Because I've had my share of them. They come after a traumatic event, and almost being beaten to death qualifies as that. They don't go away immediately, but talking about them to someone helps. They're just dreams, and if you can describe them they loose their power over time."

"That's all I've got Tony. You can thank Ducky for this. He's the one sneaking books on philosophy and achieving Zen by me. You just got more from me than all of my ex-wives combined."

"Maybe that's why they're exes," Tony joked lamely.

"Could be, Tony. Could be. Oh, one last thing; if I were gonna get tired of you it would've happened a long time ago."

"Duly noted Boss."

"So how about we start dealing with some of the stuff in the room, so we can get out of here tomorrow?"

"I'd like that."

And just like that the subject was dropped and the mood in the room lightened several shades as Gibbs set about organizing all the things Tony had accumulated over the past week. It was decided that the flowers and balloons would be donated to the hospital, to be given to lonely patients. Get well cards were gathered up and stashed in the shopping bag, along with the books, magazines, and CD's and player. A garbage bag was procured from the nurses' station and all of the stuffed animals were housed in it. Finally the room was packed up and they were ready for the morning.

After being given his bedtime medicine and taking care of necessities, Tony was finally ready to sleep. He looked over, studying Gibbs, who was sprawled out in the chair, finishing up the crossword puzzle Tony had lost interest in a half hour ago. He had been quiet for most of the remainder of the evening; Tony didn't know if that was because he had exceeded his daily allotment of words or if he was giving Tony time to absorb what had been said. Tony knew the next step was his to make.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Hey Boss? I think I should probably try to get some sleep now. You want to tuck me in?"

"I could do that," Gibbs answered with a smile, as he stood and came over to the bed. He reached over, pulling the covers up higher onto Tony's body, smoothing them over him lightly with his hands. Then he slid his left hand under Tony's neck and gently massaged the tight muscles he found there. Eventually his hand found its way up into Tony's hair, where it softly fingered the strands, pulling slightly and then releasing, occasionally feathering across Tony's scalp. Gibbs loved the feel of Tony's hair. By the time he stopped, Tony was tingling all over, his eyes closed, his body concentrated on the sensations.

"Not sure that that's the best way to make me sleep, Boss," he said with a soft moan when the fingers disappeared.

"It'll give you something different to dream about, Tony," Gibbs answered softly, and then he reached back up, and traced Tony's lips with one finger, remembering last night and wanting to feel them once more. When Gibbs removed his fingers, Tony opened his mouth, ready to say something. Lightly, Gibbs pressed his index finger back to Tony's lips, silencing him, and said, "Not now, Tony. Just go to sleep for now," and he shivered when Tony kissed the finger, indicating his acquiescence.

The morning flew by in a whirl of activity. Instructions were heaped upon instructions, reinforced by a ream of Xeroxed written reminders. Gibbs was glad of that because the amount of information they were presented with was staggering. Finally, papers signed, bags all packed and carried out; a wheelchair was rolled into the room, ready to take Tony to Gibbs' awaiting car. There was a slight disagreement between Gibbs and a nurse's aide over who was going to push Tony out, Gibbs emerging victorious. They were just about out the front doors of the hospital when Gibbs heard, "Gibbs, Tony, wait a second. Hey, hold up a minute."

Turning to look behind him, Gibbs saw Karen rushing out of the hospital, clad in another wild set of scrubs, this one featuring happy faces and the 'don't worry' slogan, brandishing a digital camera.

Catching up to them she exclaimed, "I'm so glad I caught you guys. They processed you through discharge sooner than I expected." She stopped a second to catch her breath. "You can't leave without me getting your picture Tony," she said, as she went down on one knee, taking herself eye level with him. "Okay, smile pretty for the camera, and say cheese."

Tony gave a sloppy grin, and his "cheese" was accompanied by a bright flash.

Gibbs was laughing, when he was suddenly blinded by a second flash, this one aimed at him.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Karen said. "That expression does look good on you Gibbs." Then she reached out and gave him a hug, saying, "Take care of him. If you ever need a reminder, you can come visit me and take a look at my book."

Looking at both Gibbs and Tony, she said, "Don't forget my favorite Shakespearean quote, you two – 'How poor are they that have not patience. What wound did ever heal but by degrees?' I think it applies to you both." Then she gave Gibbs a little push and said, "Get going. You don't want to still be here when the doctors decide they made a mistake in letting him go."

Gibbs surprised himself by leaning over and giving Karen a small kiss on the check. "Thanks for everything Karen." And then, with a wave, he pushed Tony out the door.

"What was that all about Gibbs?" Tony demanded. "Should I be jealous?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Tony. Nothing at all. Let's go home."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine:**

It wasn't a long drive from the hospital to Gibbs' house. They stopped off briefly at the drugstore, Gibbs running in to pick up the prescriptions that Dr. Anderson had called in for Tony. And then, before Tony knew it, they were there. He'd been quiet on the drive over, contenting himself to look out the window, reveling in all he saw. The monotony of the hospital had chafed at Tony; he had always thrived on variety, constant stimulation. He hadn't been able to think clearly in there, his thoughts seemingly choked by the tight, confining space. Now that he finally had fresh air to breath and sunlight to warm his skin, he felt better, more alert and alive. Looking out the corner of his eye, he'd snuck peaks at Gibbs as they drove. His square, able hands clutched the steering wheel, his muscled body almost quivering with the strain driving slowly and carefully were placing on him. Occasionally he would bang the wheel with a hand and mutter a curse at some poor driver who had made the unforgiveable mistake of failing to signal a turn, or of being in the lane that Gibbs wanted to occupy; his simmering annoyance making Tony smile; the fact that Gibbs was tempering his driving for him humbling him. Tony had often imagined what it would be like to have Gibbs' undivided attention – had in fact acted out on several different occasions trying to win it, only to be given a tantalizing glimpse which evaporated as quickly as it appeared. The hospital had changed that. For two weeks his sanity had hinged on Gibbs, and Gibbs stayed there, willingly giving Tony what he needed. And now they were at Gibbs' house and Tony knew that there was no turning back and he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Let's get you in first DiNozzo, then I'll come back for all the stuff," Gibbs voice broke through Tony's musings, as he cut the engine to the car. "Stay there and I'll get the crutches out of the back seat."

Tony pressed the button, releasing the seatbelt and opened the car door, waiting for Gibbs to come around to his side. With Gibbs' help he levered himself up and out, tucking the crutches under his arms, and started his ungainly journey towards the front door. Gibbs hurried in front of him, swinging the door open and out of his way.

"Head on over to the couch and get yourself settled. I'm going to put on some coffee and let it brew while I unload," Gibbs called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

Tony stood looking around the living room. He'd been here numerous times but had had no reason to pay much attention. It had always been just a space to pass through on his way to the basement, traversed quickly in his eagerness to see Gibbs. Now, realizing he was going to spend quite a bit of time here, he felt the need to commit the room to memory. The sofa was upholstered in sturdy, utilitarian beige, no pillows softened it, and its aptness to Gibbs amused Tony. It floated in the middle of the room, its back facing the kitchen door. On either side of it sat small matching end tables in a rich maple wood, old but well cared for, small brass table lamps perched atop each. The companion coffee table had been placed in front of the couch and held a few old woodworking and news magazines on its surface. Tony smiled when he spied a crossword puzzle book buried in the mix. A small fireplace was centered on the opposite wall; complete with a neat stack of wood sitting to the side, the mantel above, painted a dark brown, held pictures of family and friends dating all the way back to Gibbs years in the service. An old, well loved, avocado green recliner with a blue Marine Corp stadium blanket thrown over one arm bridged the gap between the wall and the couch. All of this sat atop the large, tan, blue and green rag rug placed to provide warmth to the cold, light oak floorboards. The wall which supported the kitchen door was lined with bookshelves; each row stuffed full, the weight of the books and papers placed tightly within making the shelves sag slightly in the middle. The room smelled of wood and coffee mixed with the chemicals from cleaning products and Tony realized with a start that Gibbs must have found time to clean the house in preparation for his arrival. This thought interrupted his silent inspection and Tony slowly hobbled over to the couch, eager to discard the crutches, acknowledging to himself the need to sit.

In the kitchen, Gibbs had just taken the bag of grounds out of the freezer where he stored them to keep them fresh, noting that the compartment was much fuller than last time he had looked inside. As he reached into one of upper cabinets that hung above the long counter for the filters, he thought about the day. Although it had been busy, it had gone unexpectedly well. He had been prepared for Tony to fall back on bravado, arguing that he could go back to his own place, and had been surprised when that had not happened. As a matter of fact, Tony had been fairly quiet all morning, but not in the tense, withdrawn way he had sometimes fallen into while in the hospital. He had actually seemed grounded and content, listening to the various doctors and nurses, even cracking the occasional joke, but willing to let Gibbs handle the lion's share of the arrangements. Having no explanation for Tony's demeanor, he hoped it was a sign that their talk last night had done some good. He didn't kid himself and think that one conversation would heal everything that had been done to Tony over the years, both by himself and by others, but he did hope it had eased Tony's mind somewhat. Now that he knew some of what had been eating at Tony, he felt more able to head off the worst of the effects. When the coffee started to drip out, he put aside his musings, telling himself there was going to be a lot of time to think about it now that they were home, and headed back to the living room, ready to empty the car.

Tony sat on the sofa and watched as Gibbs brought in bag after bag of stuff from the car, carrying it through the living room, up the stairs which began at the far end of the room, only to return a short time later, empty handed. He didn't bother offering to help, knowing he would be rebuffed and aware that he wasn't really able to. It had been a long day and the activity was beginning to take a toll on him; dull, persistent pains radiated from his leg and chest, causing his head to start a sympathetic, slow, steady throb. On Gibbs' final descent from the upstairs he found Tony leaning into the side of the sofa, broken leg stretched stiffly out in front of him, his hand rubbing at his temple with his eyes closed.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Do you want anything Tony? It's just about time to take your next round of pills," he asked.

"Some water would be great," Tony answered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Gibbs went back into the kitchen and filled the mug he had left sitting by the coffee maker. Then he reached into the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water for Tony from the shelf in the door. When he opened the door to the refrigerator he stopped in surprise. It was packed near to overflowing. Investigating, he found various types of cold cuts and cheese, and on one shelf sat bags of carrots, celery, peppers and cherry tomatoes washed, cut and ready to eat, with containers of yogurt lined up along the side. Two cartoons of eggs sat next to a large loaf of whole grain bread. A variety of salads from the deli had been stacked one atop another and the fruit bin held apples and oranges. A large baking pan of lasagna had been placed inside, wrapped tightly in cellophane; handwritten cooking instructions adhered between the layers of wrap. Next to it sat a white casserole pan, labeled as chicken and broccoli casserole, again accompanied by instructions for its baking. A meatloaf and a mountain of mashed potatoes had been arranged in another pan, just waiting to be reheated. Gibbs shook his head; they wouldn't be going hungry any time soon. It was clear that Ziva had been back last night, not content to merely pick up ingredients for food preparation. He was touched by her silent show of support and he made a mental note to call and thank her tomorrow. Grabbing the water, he let the door close.

When he got back into the living room he discovered that Tony had not budged an inch, the slump of his shoulders making it clear that he last reserves of energy were spent.

"Tony," he said, wanting to make sure he was awake. When the younger man opened his eyes and turned his head in response to his name, Gibbs continued. "Let's get you up to the guest room and you can lie down for a while after you take the medicine," he suggested.

"I'm not going to argue," Tony said, and began trying to heave himself up and off of the couch he had sunk into. The cushions were surprisingly soft and he had a hard time, his hands sinking deeply into the cushions, unable to find sufficient purchase to lever his body up with. His efforts were further foiled by his inability to bend his right leg properly and the crutches offered no help when he was in a sitting position.

Gibbs watched the struggle for a few moments and then set the coffee and water he was holding down on the coffee table. Reaching down he took the crutches from Tony, setting them to the side. Then he linked his arms under Tony's armpits and straightened back up, lifting the other man with him. Suddenly they were standing chests inches apart, his arms still wrapped around Tony. They stood that way, close enough to breathe the same air, both frozen, looking directly into each other's eyes. Tony was just about to give in to desire and lean in closer still, when Gibbs, after taking a very deep breath said, "Um, right. Let's get you up the stairs while you're still awake," but made no attempt at releasing Tony.

"Boss?" Tony said, after taking his own ragged breath. "You need to let go and get the crutches for me if I'm going to move," although he was not at all sure his trembling legs would hold him up. His words apparently snapped Gibbs back into caregiver mode, for he gently pulled away from Tony and reached for the crutches. Tony took the time to steady himself, silently reprimanding himself for not pushing the moment. When Gibbs offered him the crutches, he took them silently, not trusting what he would say, and turned towards the stairs.

Gibbs picked up the drinks and stood watching Tony try to navigate the stairs, his brain refusing to function properly. He winced as Tony literally hopped from stair to stair, using the crutches to balance himself, his progress slow but determined. Finally, when his broken leg swung into the rise of a stair causing him to gasp, a look of pain to washing over his face, Gibbs snapped into action.

"Okay, that's it. That isn't working at all. Hold up Tony; I'll be right there," and he returned the drinks to the table. Then he walked up the four steps Tony had managed and said, "Just prop the crutches against the rail, I'll come back for them later."

Tony looked at him questioningly, but did as instructed, now balancing precariously on one leg, his right hand lifted up to the wall, serving to steady himself. Gibbs ducked his head under Tony's raised arm and said, "Put your arm around my shoulder and lean into me." Once Tony had done as instructed, Gibbs bent, sliding his right arm under Tony's legs and lifted; his left arm wrapping around Tony's back to help support him. Trying not to grunt he climbed the stairs, carrying Tony with him.

"Um, you can put me down now, Boss," Tony said when they reached the landing.

"Not really," Gibbs panted, winded from the effort; Tony had lost a great deal of weight in the hospital but he wasn't light. "Your crutches are at the bottom of the stairs. Not going to have gone to all this effort just to have you fall down the stairs, while I go back to get them. Bedroom's only a bit further." He increased his speed, not wanting to drop Tony, but needing to set him down soon. By the time he was standing in front the bed in the guest room, Tony was laughing.

"What's so funny, DiNozzo," he demanded, as he set him down on the bed.

"Never thought I'd get carried over the threshold, Boss."

"Shut up DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, although his smile revealed his own amusement. "I'm going back down to get your water and the crutches. You're gonna need them. I'm not carrying you to the head all night."

While he was gone, Tony took in his surroundings. The bed was a simple double, covered in a navy blue cotton spread, four pillows covered in white cases resting against the plain oak slotted headboard. Against the opposite wall there was a large dresser, atop which sat a large flat screen television that looked suspiciously like the one in his own living room. Next to the television a DVD player had been installed with a stack of movies placed beside it, the controller lying on top of the player. Two large plaid Burberry suitcases sat in front of the dresser, and this time Tony was sure they were his, recognizing the monogram embroidered on the canvas sides. There was a door next to the dresser that Tony guessed opened into an en-suite bathroom. The garbage bags full of stuff from the hospital sat piled carelessly next to an old Windsor chair, under a window which faced out to the street, the leaves from a large tree brushing gently against the glass.

"I grabbed your medicine while I was downstairs," Gibbs said, handing Tony the water and a handful of pills as soon as he returned. Then he noticed the TV and DVD setup on the dresser. "Looks like McGee and Abby felt you needed more than some clothes and shampoo. Guess today's your lucky day," gesturing towards the television.

"I'm hoping so," Tony murmured huskily, as he sat on the bed looking up at Gibbs, from half hooded eyes. The sexual tension that had ebbed earlier, flooded back into the room again, making Gibbs' pants uncomfortably tight.

"Not gonna happen, Tony. You just got out of the hospital, where you very nearly died. You're wearing an air splint on your leg and you have a six inch incision healing on your chest where two weeks ago they operated to repair your aorta. And I haven't even touched on the pneumonia." Gibbs managed to choke out. "You're going to swallow those pills and lie down for a nap. Everything else can wait."

"But I am going to have a lucky day?" Tony had to ask, needing reassurance that he hadn't misread everything, still not trusting his abilities to think clearly.

"Oh yeah, Tony," Gibbs' voice very quiet yet forceful. "We're both going to have a lucky day. It just isn't going to be today."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Boss," Tony answered softly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Tony," was Gibbs reply.

And so Tony swallowed the pills and lay down as Gibbs had commanded. And he slept.

He slept on and off almost continually for the next two weeks. His sleep interrupted by meals, movies and visitors. He slept through the nights, unaware of Gibbs coming in, sitting in the chair, guarding against the nightmares that still sometimes tried to crowd out more pleasant dreams. He slept while Gibbs was at work; the DVD's playing in the background providing a comforting soundtrack and providing companionship. He slept to ward off the exhaustion caused by brief journeys away from the house for drives to the park when his restlessness could not be tempered any other way. And he slept to ward off the frustration caused by Gibbs' light touches to his face and lips, only to have the desired hand removed with promises of later.

Finally, four weeks to the day after Gibbs had found him in the warehouse, they were once again in the car, heading back to Gibbs' home where Tony was still happily staying, having just finished with a round of doctor's appointments. The pins in his leg had been removed and the air splint replaced with a walking boot he was to wear whenever he moved around. The cardiologist had okayed Tony's return to work the next week, provided he stay on desk duty for another two weeks and continue to get extra rest, which worked out well since that was how long he was to wear the walking boot. Brad had cleared Tony two weeks ago, again warning him to take proper precautions to stay off another round of pneumonia.

"How you holding up, Tony?" Gibbs asked, aware that this was the longest Tony had been out of the house since his release from the hospital.

"I'm fine," came the standard reply, but this time it was accompanied by a joyful smile that confirmed the truth of the statement. "Just one more week and I can start whipping McGee and Ziva back into shape."

"They said desk duty for the first two weeks, DiNozzo," Gibbs reminded him gruffly, not really wanting Tony to know how excited he was about his imminent return to work.

"I can supervise them from my desk, Boss," Tony said, waving away the objection with an airy wave of his hand. "Probie's probably forgotten half of what I taught him while I've been gone and last time she visited Ziva was showing signs of going native again. Admit it - you need me there to keep them in line."

"I'm not saying anything you can use against me later, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "Do I look like a probie to you?"

"No Boss, you most definitely do not. Nothing green about you. Grey maybe, but most definitely not green."

"Careful, Tony," Gibbs warned.

They stopped off at the Chinese restaurant by Gibbs' house to pick up dinner. Tony insisting on coming in with Gibbs to order, thrilled with being able to walk without the crutches. The owner, a tiny middle aged man, dressed neatly in a dark suit and tie, hurried over to them when he heard Tony's voice. They had struck up a phone friendship over the last two weeks when Tony called in delivery orders and he was thrilled to meet Tony in person. While the food was being prepared they chatted amiably about the Washington Wizards, a common interest discovered during their visits on the phone. Once the hot and sour soup, egg rolls, General Tso's chicken, Hunan pork and complimentary almond cookies had been bagged and paid for, and Tony had promised they would return soon and eat in the restaurant, they headed back to Gibbs' home.

Gibbs grabbed two plates from the cupboard and spread the food out on the small formica table in the kitchen. They talked easily as they ate, moving from one topic to another, occasionally reaching over with a chopstick to steal some of the other's food. Clean up was easy – the leftovers were stowed in the cartoons and placed in the refrigerator, napkins and chopsticks tossed in the garbage, and the two plates rinsed and set in the sink, awaiting more companions before being washed. During dinner Gibbs had agreed to watch a movie with Tony after they ate, knowing that was one of Tony's favorite ways to unwind, and suspecting that Tony had built up a lot of nervous energy over the course of the day.

Once they were finished eating Tony asked if Gibbs minded if he took a shower before they watched the movie. It had been a month since he had been able to soak in the shower, prevented by the healing leg and incisions, having to settle for sponge baths and the sink for his daily ministrations. When he got to the bathroom attached to his room, he removed the walking boot, pausing a moment to enjoy the feel of not having something binding his leg. Then stripping off his clothes he turned on the shower to as hot as he could stand and stepped in. Tony stayed in the shower for a very long time, allowing the water to beat against him, rotating his body occasionally to let the warmth seep through all of the layers of his skin. He lathered himself with his favorite soap three times, determined to get off every bit of residual dirt left behind by his previous, less than adequate, bathing options. It was only the slow chilling of the shower as he drained the hot water heater's reservoir that drove him out. Feeling around in the steam filled room for the clothes he had set on the toilette set, he pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants and an old clean t-shirt over his bare, now rosy skin, then grabbed the walking boot and headed out into the bedroom.

"Aren't you supposed to be wearing that?" Gibbs demanded, pointing to the walking boot in Tony's hand. Gibbs sat waiting on Tony's bed, back leaning against the headboard, legs up and bare feet crossed, holding the controller.

"I wasn't going far, Boss. Just from the bathroom to the bed. The doctor said I only needed to wear it while I was moving around," then to change the subject, he asked, "Did you get the movie set up?" as he eased himself down.

"Yep, though I gotta tell you DiNozzo, I've never heard of _Ulysses' Gaze_."

"It's a cinemagraphic masterpiece, Boss. It came out in 1995 and won the grand prize at the Cannes and the European Film Academy Awards. Harvey Keitel is brilliant in it. He totally got screwed that year by the Oscars. You're going to love it!" he said, as he settled, stretching out beside Gibbs on the bed, resting his head on the stack of pillows already prepared for him.

Gibbs had serious reservations about that, having never heard of the Cannes or the European Film Academy Awards, but gamely sat on the bed next to Tony, willing to give it a try. Over the last couple of weeks he had let Tony give him a crash course in film appreciation as a way to stay off Tony's growing restlessness. They had watched everything from Charlie Chaplin's _The Great Dictator_ to _The Wizard of Oz_. He had hated some of the films Tony had chosen but had been surprised to discover that he loved every Alfred Hitchcock film they had watched and had even liked a couple of the Orson Wells'. Watching the films had given Tony an opportunity to talk endlessly about the merits of the various genres and directors represented and distracted him from the forced inactivity his injuries required for healing. Gibbs had learned that he didn't really need to listen carefully to what Tony was saying; that a grunt in agreement whenever there was a lull in one of Tony's monologues sufficed.

Pressing the play button, Gibbs started the movie and they watched the first half hour of the movie in relative silence. Gibbs was having a hard time following the movie. It jumped from one short scene to another and it was sometimes difficult to understand why. Finally, having been quiet as long as was possible for him, Tony started to talk again. Trying to focus on the film and still listen with half an ear to Tony began to give Gibbs a headache. Absentmindedly, he reached over and placed his index finger against Tony's momentarily closed mouth, wanting him to stay quiet. He was not prepared for when Tony opened his mouth and sucked Gibbs' finger into it.

Suddenly Gibbs couldn't hear anything except the pounding of his own heart. Tony was alternating sucking with nibbling, using his tongue to reposition the finger where he wanted it in his mouth. Gibbs looked over at Tony, the green of his irises were obscured by the dilation of his pupils, and he was staring at Gibbs, his face flushed and his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Gibbs didn't think he had ever seen anything so erotic. All of the sexual need Gibbs had been steadfastly suppressing for the last month rose to the surface, demanding release. He lifted another finger to Tony's mouth and groaned when it was sucked into the wet warmth also. Tony was now moving the fingers in and out of his mouth and making quiet little guttural sounds as he did so, his eyes closing to half slits and his hips undulating in rhythm with the motions of his mouth. Rolling over, Gibbs repositioned himself so that he was straddling Tony's legs, his lower body covering Tony's and he shivered as hard cock rubbed into hard cock. Then, with a sigh, he pulled his fingers from Tony's mouth, tracing his lips with them, using Tony's own saliva to moisten them; Tony whimpered at the loss of the fingers. Then Gibbs sealed his mouth over Tony's now wet lips in a demanding and drugging kiss and when Tony opened his mouth to moan, Gibbs replaced the fingers with his tongue. Their tongues danced around each other, not breaking it off to breathe until they were both gasping for air.

Tony reached his hands up, running his fingers through Gibbs' silver hair, surprised by how soft it was. Resting on his forearms Gibbs looked down at Tony, then reaching out he took Tony's hands and gently pulled his arms up over his head, pushing them into the mattress. Holding them in place he dipped his head back down and kissed Tony, licking and sucking on his swollen lips. He then moved his mouth down, running his tongue along Tony's jaw line, sucking and kissing along his neck until he got to right above the hollow of his collar bone, where he laved with his tongue, nibbling and sucking hard enough to mark Tony as his.

Tony's back was arching as he strained to connect further with Gibbs' body. He tried to reach out for Gibbs and moaned in need when he felt the restraint on his arms. His whole body began quivering with need when he felt Gibbs lift off of him. The pressure on his wrists disappeared but before he could react his t-shirt was being drawn up and off his body. He watched as Gibbs grabbed his wrists again and lowered himself back onto Tony.

"Stay still and let me take care of you Tony," Gibbs asked, his voice thick with desire.

Past words, Tony nodded his agreement, his tongue circling and wetting his own lips, swallowing to try to ease the sudden dryness in his throat. Gibbs had scooted down on Tony's body, his mouth now focusing on the exposed chest. His mouth and tongue lavishing attention to Tony's nipples, flicking, biting, sucking and licking them until they were so erect they ached. He then ran his tongue down the healing incision on Tony's chest, pressing little kisses into it as he went. He slid his hands down Tony's arms as he moved, his tongue leaving a wet trail down Tony's chest until it came to rest on Tony's belly button. Once there he slid his tongue in and out of its hollow repeatedly, his hands now roaming freely all over Tony's body, occasionally reaching up to tweak an already over sensitized nipple.

Gibbs once again pushed up and away, allowing himself a moment just to gaze at Tony. Tony was moaning continuously now, his hips thrusting up and trying to re-establish contact with Gibbs, his head writhing from side to side. Gibbs felt his own cock pulse with desire, and he reached down and pulled Tony's sweat pants off. Tony immediately spread his legs wide, a blatant invitation, past worrying about what he looked like. His cock was erect and dripping, deeply colored from desire and need. Gibbs lowered his head, running his lips along the soft skin of the inside of Tony's right thigh, while his arms reached up and fastened onto Tony's hips, forcing them to still. He worked his way up until his mouth was on Tony's scrotum. He alternated sucking Tony's balls gently into his mouth and pushing them to the sides with the tip of his tongue. Tony's hands were in Gibbs' hair now, trying to pull his head up to his leaking cock, but Gibbs refused to oblige. He reached up, untangling Tony's fingers from his hair, and pressed the hands down onto the bed beside his hips. Then he continues his journey, blowing gently on the now wet scrotum as he worked his mouth over to Tony's left thigh, where he resumed kissing and tickling with his tongue.

His hips freed from Gibbs' grasp, Tony was once again thrusting upward, fucking himself on the air, his moans sounding almost painful. Gibbs glanced up and saw tears' leaking slowly out of Tony's now closed eyes. Finally, desperate to fight his way far enough out of the fog that had enveloped him to speak, Tony managed to gasp out, "Please...please."

As if that had been the sign he had been waiting for, Gibbs stopped the torment on Tony's thigh, lifted his head and in one smooth motion sucked Tony's cock into his mouth. At the feel of Gibbs' mouth taking him, Tony screamed in relief. They were both beyond reason now. Gibbs lavished attention on Tony's member, sucking and licking its length, reaching up with one hand to stroke the base when his tongue was busy circling the sensitive underside of the head. His own hips were rocking in a sympathetic counterpoint to Tony's, repeatedly grinding his cock into the mattress in an attempt to seek his own relief.

Finally, close to coming, Tony again managed to choke out more words, "please…want you…in me…please."

That was all Gibbs needed to hear, taking one of Tony's hands, helping him to wrap it around his cock and pressing it hard to the base of Tony's cock to stay of his orgasm, Gibbs reared back, reaching into the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed and pulling out a small bottle of lube. He pulled his jeans and boxers off in one fluid motion and opened the bottle, spreading lube generously over his own swollen and leaking cock. Then he looked down at Tony and said, "I'm clean and I know you are. Want to feel myself spill inside you. That okay?" he asked.

Tony just nodded and moaned, canting his hips up in a lewd invitation, attempting to spread his legs even wider.

Ripping off his own t-shirt, needing to feel all of his skin pressed against Tony's, he climbed back between Tony's legs. Reaching down he drew Tony's left leg up and slid one slick finger into the now exposed very tight pucker of Tony's ass. Tony immediately answered by pushing down against it, hissing with relief. Gibbs worked his finger in and out slowly, trying to loosen Tony up. As he worked, he lowered his mouth to lick at Tony's cock, sucking and swirling his tongue along the aching gland. Eventually a second finger, followed quickly by a third, filled Tony, moving in and out in an imitation of what he intended to do with his cock.

At last he decided Tony was ready. Reaching under Tony's hips, he lifted his ass up from the bed, and lined his cock up, sliding slowly into Tony. Once the head of his cock was seated, he paused a moment, reveling in the feel, then with one more, slow steady thrust, he slid the rest of the way home. Tony lifted his left leg from the bed and wrapped it around Gibbs' hips, pulling down, attempting to push Gibbs even deeper. Placing his lips back over Tony's, he kissed him deeply as he began to move his hips slowly; pulling almost completely out of Tony and then thrusting back in all the way. He repeated this over and over again, each thrust almost in slow motion. When he found Tony's prostate, causing Tony to moan loudly, he hit it again and again until Tony was howling. Silencing Tony's screams with his mouth, he mirrored the movement of his cock with his tongue. Eventually his own need won out, and he sped up. His thrusts no longer rhythmic and controlled, but rather erratic and needy. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Tony's cock, wetting it on the pre-cum which was leaking unabated from the tip. He slid his hand up and down it, as he slammed into Tony repeatedly. It didn't take long before Tony's breath started to catch and then his body stiffened as he released all over Gibbs' hand and his own belly, then he sank into a hazy kind of oblivion. The tightening of his muscles was all it took to send Gibbs over the edge, and he came at almost the same time, collapsing onto Tony's chest when he was done, dizzy and panting.

They stayed like that for several minutes, neither capable of movement. Finally, Gibbs pulled out of Tony slowly and gently. Pressing a kiss to Tony's lips, he then bent over Tony's body, running his tongue across Tony's belly and spent cock, cleaning his own cum off with his tongue. Tony shivered in response, touched to his core, never having had any lover do something so intimate and caring. Reaching down, he grasped Gibbs' head and pulled him up for another deep kiss. Tony could taste his own musk mixing with the residual coffee and spice he had come to know as Gibbs' own personal flavor. Gibbs ran his fingers through Tony's hair as they kissed, and then slowly pulled back and stared into Tony's eyes. "Lucky day, Tony?" he asked, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.

"The luckiest of all, Jethro," Tony answered back, and then tilted his head back, pursing his lips, demanding another kiss. Gibbs chuckled but obliged. Finally he rolled over onto his back, pulling Tony tightly over to him, settling Tony's head on his chest and wrapping his arms around him. They fell asleep like that, the heat from their bodies providing the only warmth they needed.

Finally, some time in the middle of the night Gibbs woke up, beginning to feel the chill in the air. Very carefully, so as not to wake Tony, he slid out of bed and went down the hall to the master bedroom. Pulling the thick down filled comforter off of his bed, he carried it back to the guest room. Laying back down beside Tony, he covered them both up and then gently pulled Tony back into him. Tony stirred slightly, burrowed his head deeper into Gibbs shoulder, and with a contented sigh sank back into a deep sleep. Pressing a kiss to Tony's forehead, Gibbs felt sleep trying to reclaim him. His last conscious thought before giving in was, surprisingly enough, a quote from a movie - "there's no place like home". And then Gibbs drifted off, enjoying his first good night's sleep since Tony had been hurt.


End file.
